


Sighs and Raised Eyebrows

by seeing_blue



Series: Wait, What? [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AUs are Too Much Fun, Al Knows What's Going On in This One, Alienages, Angst, Blood/gore tw, Darktown, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hightown, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kirkwall, Lowtown, Modern Girl in Kirkwall, Modern Girl in Thedas, Okay I Just Had To, References galore, The Hanged Man (Dragon Age), crossovers, leads into inquisiton, lots and lots of humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 73
Words: 385,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeing_blue/pseuds/seeing_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New name, new body, new purpose. That's a good thing, right?</p><p>...Right?</p><p>Either way, Alaran Lavellan, the Otherworlder and future Inquisitor, will affect the lives of everyone she meets. From the dusty streets of Kirkwall to the austere halls of Skyhold, she sees a world that she can change.</p><p>Oh, and she will change it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dropped Off

**Author's Note:**

> I hope all you lovelies enjoy this little cinnamon roll of mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These first two chapters are also in "It Was A Long Story," which contain snippets from the entire expanse of my series Wait, What? So if you've already read those, you can go ahead and skip to the third chapter. But for those of you who haven't, I hope you enjoy!

_"...Maker, is it a demon?"_

_"I've never seen such a pale elf, before..."_

_"Did you see?  She just appeared in the middle of the street!"_

My eyes cracked open, and I coughed slightly from the inhalation of dust.  The particles coated my lips and tongue, the warmth of the paved stone ground heated the front of my body.  I lifted my head and peered at my surroundings.

What the...?

Before anything could register, rough hands picked me up off the ground.  I moaned in ache and protest.  Several whistles from the street ensued.

Wait.

I looked down at my body, inaudibly gasping.  I was currently bearing my nekkid body for the world to see.  My  _pale_ naked body.  My  _different_ naked body.  My...my...

"Ho, there, Cullen!" a booming voice called.  I whipped my head over to see a man with black, choppy hair with a red streak across the bridge of his nose waving jovially.  Flanking him was a short man with a considerable amount of exposed chest hair, a dark-skinned woman in scandalous clothes and a blue bandana, and another man with blonde hair and a jacket with feathers on his shoulders.  "I didn't know Templars got kinky with elves in the middle of the street!  Usually they wait until dark, or just go over to the Blooming Rose."  

My head then craned around to see a blond-haired man opening and closing his mouth as he sputtered to come up with the right words.  "I--I'm not-- _she_ fell through the middle of the air!  Obviously she's a mage practicing blood magic..."

I lost sense of the world around me as everything crashed against my being.  This couldn't be happening.  This  _wasn't_ happening.  I was dying.  No!  I was  _dead._ Yeah, this was...this was...

Shit.  I couldn't explain anything.  And I _felt_  alive.  My heart was racing incredibly fast, my blood was roaring loudly in my ears, my body was quivering with adrenaline...all were signs that pointed to my wellness.

But  _that_ was the Champion of Kirkwall.   _That_ was Varric.   _That_ was Isabela.   _T_ _hat_ was Anders.  

And holding me was Cullen Rutherford, a member of the Templar Order. 

"...not the first to be publicly indecent.  Maker knows  _everybody_ in Lowtown has been a victim of that," Hawke was saying with a charming smile.  "And can you honestly feel any magic on her?"

A few moments of silence passed.  My eyes kept wildly moving between the body I was in and the foreign city that surrounded me.  Then there was a sigh from Cullen.  "No."  His voice hardened once more.  "But it still doesn't explain how she got to be here.  I'm going to take her to the Circle--"

"Oh, no,  _that's_ not necessary," Hawke insisted.  He snapped his fingers at Varric.  "Maker, Tethras, be a gentleman and give her your duster!"

"And you're just going to take her under your wing?" Cullen demanded to know.

"He  _is_ a Hawke, after all," I muttered shakily.  Voice sounded the same, so that was good.  Varric pointed his finger at me and nodded in approval. 

"I like you."

 _And I love you, Varric.  Seriously.  I love you.  I love all of you._ Things were coming back all too quickly. 

But I didn't say that.  "No," the Templar said flatly, ignoring my awful pun.  "She's going to the Circle.  Better yet, I'm taking her to the Templars."

Fear and panic raged inside me.  Even if this  _was_ just a dream, it was going to turn into a nightmare very fast if I didn't do anything.  I was  _not_ going to be taken to the Knight-Commander and be subjected to torture until I was proven to be harmless.  Nor was I going to be trapped in the Circle.

An executive decision was made.  "If you don't put me down, right now," I growled, using my fear and turning it into ferocity.  "I'm going to tell everybody that  _you're_ the reason why I'm naked and terrified.  I will  _ruin_ your entire career.  Please don't make me do that.  I don't like you that much, but I don't _hate_ you."  I was full-on rambling, now.  "If you don't let me go in the next five seconds, though, I will scream bloody murder.  And then the Champion of Kirkwall here will have to save me."  Hawke and his party were now looking at me in a new light.  Varying degrees of shock and smiles were sprawled across their faces.  "Isn't that right?"  I locked eyes with Hawke.

He cleared his throat and straightened his expression.  "Yes.  Very true.  Quite.  Most seriously.  Then we'd have a war on our hands, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Oh, the foreshadowing was so ripe it could have been plucked from the branch of irony.  

"You wouldn't dare," Cullen growled.  I sucked in air, puffing my naked chest out.  

"Put her down, Rutherford," Hawke warned.  "I won't report you to the Templars if you just let her go and give her to me."

"I'd do what he says," Varric joined in.  "He  _is_ a  somewhat respected figure in Kirkwall.  And let's be real here:  people like him more than they like the Templars.  You think anybody here is going to take your side?"

I was ready to let an awful scream tear my throat a new one when I was set down.  My knees immediately buckled and I collapsed back onto the dirty stone.  "I won't forget this, Hawke," Cullen said darkly.  

"I will," Hawke said back, suddenly jovial again.  "You are my favorite Templar, after all."

"Thank you, Cullen," I whispered.  My ass was up to him and here I was, thanking him for dropping me on the ground and not imprisoning me.  "I won't forget this, either."

I could almost feel the heat rise to the Templar's cheeks.  Without another word he stormed off.  

A leather duster was laid on top of me moments after.  The scent of pine oil filled my nostrils.  "Now, what kind of story do you have?" Varric asked me soothingly as I shakily put my arms through the sleeves.

"Yeah," Hawke said as he approached.  "It's not every day that a Dalish elf suddenly appears out of thin air."

A Dalish elf?   _A Dalish elf?_

"Honestly," I spoke hoarsely, "you probably have a better idea than I do."

-

My fingers grazed the pale blue  _vallaslin_ etched into my skin.  Saturated violet eyes peered back at me in the mirror, and dark, berry-colored lips were set into a straight line.  Pointed ears twitched sporadically.   _Those_ were uncontrollable.  

There was a knock on the sad, splintered door.  I turned around and walked a short ways to open it.  Rooms at the Hanged Man were, well...

They were shit.

And I was in one of them.   _Just pretend you're Kvothe,_ I told myself,  _and that the Hanged Man is Anker's.  Only, you're not a hero and this place is the worst thing to ever have existed._

It had been a few days since I had taken up the housing.  Varric had given me a fair amount of money to buy me new clothes, and was also covering my first month of rent.  I was frugal, and had spend only a fourth of my money on clothes.  That meant my thin trousers were too long for my legs and had to be rolled up, my boots were a size too large and seriously used, and my tunics were plain colors and too large.  That resulted in knots on the sides or back of the shirts.  I did spend some coin on underwear and socks.   _Those_ I needed.  I wasn't going to be unhygienic.

Hawke, Isabela, and Varric stood on the other side.  "See you settled in nicely," Varric said as he peeked in.  Isabela rested against the doorway and smirked.  

"Now that's no way to dress a pretty body like yours.  What, did Varric only give you five coppers?"

"I gave her  _two silvers!"_ Varric protested.  

"So have you figured out a name for yourself, yet?" Hawke questioned with a familiar raised eyebrow.

I gave a nod.  "Yeah.  I'm Alaran."   _Pretty sure that's what I named myself.  It sounded more elfy than Annabelle._

"Alaran of...?" Hawke continued to prompt.  I grimaced and scratched my nose.

"...Lavellan?  I think?  Can't be too positive," I responded, even though I was a thousand percent positive.  I dropped my hand and shrugged.  "But it doesn't matter."   _Now, could you help me get home so I can die a miserable death?  It's pretty hot, here, and I'm actually starting to miss the cold New York winter I had been so suddenly ripped away from._

"Listen, the reason we're here is 'cause we found you a job," Varric said.  "You can't live off of my charity forever."  He said the last part with an easy smile.  

"You didn't sell me out to the Blooming Rose, did you?  I know you got a first-hand view of my incredible bod, but it's not for sale."  I paused.  "Unless I get food as payment.   _Then_ I would consider--"

"Maker, no," Hawke laughed.  "My friend Aveline--"

I internally screamed with excitement.

"--needs somebody to help her with running messages.  I mentioned that you could use the job, she said no, I said yes, she said no again, I said yes again, she gave an exasperated sigh, and I took that as a go ahead," he grinned.  "You in?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but Isabela snapped out a finger and held it against my lips.  "I know you're going to say yes so you can afford to live in this shithole,  _but_ you're going to need nicer clothes.  It physically hurts me to see you look like that."  She waved her free hand up and down at my body.

"You just gestured to all of me," I frowned.  "And these clothes are brand new!"

"Al," Varric chuckled, "those clothes were new about ten years ago."  He squinted his eyes and peered closer.  "Andraste's sweet ass, I do believe those are pit stains."

My frown deepened, and I folded my arms to hide said pit stains.  "I'm not buying new clothes.  I'll just throw them in the wash--"  I broke into a fit of coughing to hide my near slip-up.  "I'll just wash them again."

"Honey, those aren't coming out," Isabela said with the shake of her head.  She then tilted it.  "And I think I saw that same shirt on that fat butcher across the street."

I tried not to be grossed out.  "Look, why don't we worry about my impeccable fashion sense later," I sighed.  "I'd love to have a job.  Right now I'd be shoveling pig shit if it could keep me from boredom."

"Careful what you wish for," Varric winked.  "You may just do that, if you get on Aveline's bad side."

"But seriously," Hawke said, scratching his beard.  That thing was obviously maintained with care.  "Do you want the job or not?"

Basically, he was asking me if I wanted to accept this as reality and embrace everything I once thought was just part of a video game, and most likely alter the course of everything and everyone.

This was going to be epic.

I smirked.  "Freak yeah."

 

 

 


	2. Bandits Want Boots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al and Carver talk. Heavy sarcasm and cynicism ensue.

The look on their faces when I said that I didn't drink was priceless.  I would have to draw it later.

First I would have to get a drawing pad and some coal, though.  

"But hey," I said with my arms spread wide, "I'm still a good time."

Hawke, Isabela, Varric, and Anders all booed at me.  I let the hate roll in with a proud smile.  But who was it that was going to be dragging their sorry asses back to where they belonged when Aveline wasn't around?  That's right.  Me.  Because when I wasn't running around being the Captain of the Guard's little elven lackey, I was being her exemplar.  Or...semi-exemplar.  Actually, it was more like 1/4 exemplar.  I didn't really care.  Kirkwall made my typical goal-oriented, go-getter attitude dissipate into a level of carefreeness and nonchalance. Or maybe it was due to the people I chose to spend my time with. Probably the latter. Besides, I was quick to realize that Dalish elves weren't exactly met with the warmest welcome in the Guard.

"Come on, Hawke, let's get you home," I said as I hauled the scruffy mage up out of the chair. Isabela was still going strong, and I'm sure she'd still be by the time I got back. Everybody else had thrown in the towel about an hour ago. 

As the two of us took the trek back to his house, I prayed that we wouldn't be met by bandits. I hadn't been trapped by them, yet, but the sliver of the moon and the overcast sky provided a prime night for mugging and murdering. Not in that same order, either. 

"Alaran," Hawke mused drunkenly as we neared the stairs to his home, "how did you end up here?"

"I told you," I responded evenly, "I don't remember."

 _"Psh._ We all know you're lying.  None of us just have the heart to tell you."

"Thank you for telling me, Hawke."

"You're welcome."

The house was dark and quiet when we stumbled in.  I wanted to apologize to Leandra for the ruckus, but decided it best to just toss Hawke in his bed and make sure he was face-up before I quickly sneaked out.  I did just that--I was even generous and took off the future Champion's boots as he had already begun to snore--and tip-toed back outside.  

As soon as I was in the open air once more, fear tightened my stomach.  Kirkwall, for all its spunk and originality...was a poop hole.  A dangerous poop hole.  

My laughter echoed too loudly against the buildings.  I shut my mouth with a  _snap_ and hurried at a fast pace back to the Hanged Man.  It was close in proximity, yet felt as though it were miles away.  Too soon did I feel eyes on me, watching, waiting.  

My steps quickened.

_You should really invest in a knife.  A long, six-foot knife._

_A sword.  Literally.  It's called a sword._

"Now what's a pretty lit'l knife-ear scamperin' around at these dark hours?"

_Make that two six-foot knives._

I slowly turned my head to the left and right of me, evaluating any chance of escape with the eight or so bandits encircling me.  They knew I didn't have any money, from my thin leggings and over-sized, worn gray tunic.  

_Boots.  That's what they wanted.  They wanted my boots._

I glanced down at the ugly, endearing footwear.  

_No.  Not boots.  Boobs._

Shit.

The first one that lunged at me got a swift kick to the groin.  I sucked in a lungful of air to scream as loudly as possible, but there were still seven bandits left.  One clamped a grimy, putrid hand over my mouth while another yanked my legs out from under me.  I kicked as fiercely as I could and nearly got free, but two others held me down.  "She'll make for a fierce one," the same bandit who spoke to me in the first place commented with a gaping, rotting grin.  "The ships'll love her.  Don't know why so many 'ave a thing for knife-ears."  He neared me, but I slashed a hand out in defense to stop him.

The bandit leader expected that, and gripped it with his own.  When the other came out of blind instinct, he did the same.  "Kol, hold 'er hands like a good little boy, will ya?"

My hands were taken up by another man--this one the beefiest out of all of them--as the leader gazed down at me.  My body was still writhing fiercely, but it did little good when the rest of me was restrained.  "Ya know what gives you knife-ears away in the dark?  It's them glowing eyes.  Heard it was some nocturnal bullshit or whatever.  But you still didn't see us coming, did ya?"  

With a slimy smirk he roughly shoved a hand up my loose tunic and painfully squeezed my breast.  This time I did scream, but it was almost completely muffled by the maw covering my mouth.  "Hidin' such beauties away, huh?"  

A knife glinted in the dark.  I screamed again, expecting it to plunge into my abdomen, but it only sliced my shirt open, revealing a plain breast band and a smooth stomach.  "We'll get a good price for ya, lass.  Don't worry."  The bandit leader had the gall to wink after making his statement.  

"Cap," said the bandit who was keeping me silent.  "We should test her out, first.  Make sure she's sailor material.  Don't you think?"

"That's an excellent idea--"

Hot blood spurted on my face as the bandit leader's head was lopped off from his body.  I was dropped to the ground as the bandits scrambled to see who had just killed their boss.  

"Seriously," Carver sighed, a bored expression on his pale face.  "I got out of bed for this?"

He made short work of the bandits all on his own.  I managed to get out of the way in time before I became another one of the corpses lying on the ground.  My shirt--which had been my favorite--was now basically a jacket, with the way it was cleanly cut down the middle.  I wrapped it around me the best I could, clinging to the fabric to try and stop my violent trembling. 

The younger Hawke pulled out a rag and began cleaning his greatsword as he approached me.  He hadn't even been in battle armor when he...when he basically saved my life.

"You alright?" he inquired bluntly.  I gave a nod, refusing to speak until I was sure my voice wouldn't betray me.  

After a few deep breaths and a swallow, I said, "Thanks, Carver." I wouldn't,  _couldn't,_ look at the bodies. The corpses. 

He shrugged and sheathed his sword behind his back.  Hey...hadn't I chosen the warrior option when I was creating my  _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ character?  "Don't mention it."

"Oh, I'll definitely mention it," I said with a weak laugh, trying to use amusement to cover my terror.  "I'm going to tell Varric all about how you swooped in like a hero and saved me from vicious thugs."

Carver scoffed.  "Yeah, like he or anybody would listen," he said bitterly.  "If it's not about Garrett, then it's not worth hearing."

Ah.   _There_ was the reason why I never liked him in the game.  "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't get the invitation to your Pity Party," I said with biting sarcasm.  I tossed my hair back with a shaky hand.  "You know, if you stop whining about how you're under Garrett's shadow all the time, then maybe you could actually  _do_ something about it."

He scowled to such perfection that it had to have been practiced a million times over.  "You don't know anything about my life, elf.  You think you can judge everybody because you've been here a month--"

I angrily strode up to Carver and flicked the tip of his nose.  "Ow!  Hey!" he sputtered as he cupped the spot where my fingernail had made contact with his skin.  

"You do realize that you're arguing with somebody who nearly got raped and kidnapped," I whispered loudly.  "Somebody who is genuinely appreciative of you taking action and saving them.  So suck up and buck up, Carver.  Because I'm thankful for you.  Not Garrett.  That hairy ass was the reason I ended up here so late, because he wanted me to walk him home despite nobody else wanting to come with us."  I jammed the same finger that flicked Carver's nose into his chest.  "Now quit acting like a little boy and walk me back to the Hanged Man."

He looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time, and not just a wiry little elf that hung around their squad.  "Y-yes ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am.  My name is Alaran."

"Okay, Alaran."

With how shaky my knees were from the adrenaline still coursing through  my body, I hooked my arm with Carver's for support.  He looked down in surprise, but said nothing.  We began to walk back to the seedy bar that so many called their home.  

"Do you miss your sister?" I asked aloud in the dark when the silence was near maddening.

A short silence. "Every day," Carver replied somberly.  "She...she was my twin, after all.  Maker, she annoyed me so much sometimes, but when she wasn't..."

"You should be glad you got to know her as much as you did, though," I said mildly.  "I was an only child.  And my parents were shit.  So even though you have to carry the burden of losing a sister..."  _and soon your mother,_ "at least you got good memories with her."

"...I suppose that's true."  A pause.  "Do you miss your people?  Your kind?"

I gave a snort, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my breast while coming up with an answer at the same time.  "You don't have to ask me questions just to keep conversation.  I'm perfectly fine strolling in silence."

"Yes, because making a hasty retreat to the Hanged Man is  _such_ a stroll," Carver shot back.  "And believe it or not, but I can actually have a decent conversation with people when I'm feeling up to it."

"Why don't you say that a little louder, huh?  Maybe then the Arishok can hear you and come put his two coppers in."

We shared similar, sarcastic looks between each other before the two of us broke down in soft chuckles.  "You're a sassy little shit," I muttered.

"It takes one to know one."

We neared the seedy tavern, which was still exuding muffled noises of laughter, yelling, and music.  Isabela was probably at the center of it all.  

"You still didn't answer my question," Carver said.  I rolled my eyes.

 _"Ugh._ Fine.  No, no I don't miss my 'kind.'  Because why should I miss those who would never miss me in the first place?  There.  Happy?"

"I'm never happy," Carver sighed knowingly.  

I still gave a small smile.  "Yeah, I guess saving somebody's life would make anybody really unhappy."

"Shut it."

Carver stopped as soon as we reached the door.  I could smell the tang of ale and piss even from out here.  "Well, I bid thee farewell, o honorable knight," I said with a horrible curtsy.  Imitating clutching my skirt opened my torn tunic.  Carver's face turned a bright shade of red and he quickly averted his eyes.  My smile turned into a smirk.  "Are you sure you can handle yourself walking back alone?  I think I was the one guiding us through the dark."

"Don't worry, o fair maiden," Carver replied with a curt bow.  "I've walked these streets in the dark too many times to count.  Plus I have a nice friend strapped to my back who's quite persuasive."

I groaned.  "You did not just make the most cliche comparison with your sword.  You know what?  I'll pretend I didn't hear that, and you can be on your way."  I opened the door, gave a salute to Carver--who was showing a rare smile himself--and slipped in.

My feet carried me to my room.  Isabela called out for me to join her, but I only pointed to upstairs to signal where I wanted to go.  My tunic was once again wrapped around my waist, so it looked like I was just crossing my arms.

It was only when I closed my bedroom door behind me that I slumped to the floor and let my emotions wash over me.  I hated being weak, but I hated it even more so in front of others.  

So there was only one solution to the problem of my weakness.  

Get strong.

-

"You know, I'm all for elves swinging big shiny metal things around," Varric drawled, sitting down at the same table I was at, "but are you really sure that you can even pick up one of them?  You're pretty tiny, and Broody's all lyrium-juiced to be able to do what he does.  Plus, he has that whole Fueled-By-Vengeance thing going on, too.  What do you have to spur your strength?"  I paused, my forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to my mouth. Violet eyes regarded them.  

It was a short pause.  I loved eggs too much.

"Protein, riboflavin, and selenium.  But not enough of the last one to kill aliens."  I raised an eyebrow in thought.  "Unless the people here are considered aliens.  Or unless  _I'm_ considered an alien."  My next bite of eggs was a more ponderous one.  

"Ya know, you seem pretty normal and average  _until_ you open your mouth," Varric said with a hesitant chuckle.  "But nice made-up words."

I scoffed into my plate of eggs.  _Yeah, you guys just keep believing in your humors and whatnot and rely on magic.  In the meantime,_ I'm _going to give my body the proper nutrients it needs, and pray that my cells don't backstab me again._

"See?  That's weird, right there!"

I choked on the food in my mouth as I laughed, realizing that I said what I was thinking out loud.  "S-sorry, Varric," I coughed, "I'm--I'm going to g-go, now."  I pushed up my sleeves before I got too toasty and picked up my plate.

"What is that."

 _Poopsicles._ "Uh, it's an empty plate.  Do you want to borrow it?  I can tell the cook to put some more on--"

"Alaran."

"You know, I really hate it when you go into Concerned Friend mode.  I thought you were a selfish bastard."  I sighed and balanced the empty plate on my head as I talked, positioning my feet in the same style that I learned when I took ballet classes as a little child.  Or, rather, when my mother forced me to.  "Whilst dropping the drunken Hawke off at his humble abode last night, I was attacked by bandits.  They incapacitated me and honked a boob squooze, talked about selling a dagger-ear like myself to a ship or something, and then got killed."

"Killed?  By who?"

 _"Whom._ I thought you would know proper English, Varric.  Wait--Common.  Proper Common.  And it was Carver.  He heard me dropping off Garrett and used his good conscience to follow me.  Then he kindly escorted me back to the Hanged Man.  Did I mention that one of the bandits ripped my favorite tunic?  I was so freaking  _pissed._ Still am--ah shit."

My plate slid off my head and clattered to the floor.  "So, now you know why I want to train with Aveline.  That way, I can get swol and pumped."  I pushed my lips out and scrunched up my face as I flexed and did body-builder movements.  Varric was in the internal state of being furious and confused.  I let him stew as I took my plate back to the kitchen.  When I came back he looked ready to talk.  A lot.

"I knew I should have gone with you two, but--"

 _"Shhh,_ I know what you're already going to say.  And frankly, my dwarf, I don't give a damn." 

"Why did your voice change?"

"What?"

"Your voice.  It changed when you said that last sentence.  If there's a joke going on between--Oh, yeah, just go ahead and walk out on me.  And thanks for the finger!"

 

 

 


	3. Existential Crisis and Merrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al struggles to find her purpose in Kirkwall once the reality of life there sets in.

"It was only a matter of time before you got a poker to the ass," I sighed, then scrunched my eyebrows together.  "Wait.  That came out wrong.  I meant that..."

"Yeah, yeah," Varric waved off.  "I know what you meant."

I slung my small pack over my shoulder and slightly tilted my head.  "You look more beat-up about this than I am," I commented.  "It's just the alienage.  Merrill will be there to take care of me.   _I_ will be there to take care of me."  I tuned my mouth downward in a mock-pout.  "Oh, Varric Warric, are you going to miss me?"

"No, not when you call me crap like that."

I flashed a grin, but quickly stashed it away before it could linger too long.  "Why do you do that?" Varric asked, catching my grin despite my wish for him not to.

_Because I had a mouth full of braces from when I was ten years old to when I was sixteen.  Still couldn't fix the fact that I just didn't_ smile  _prettily._

"I...just got made fun of it a lot, when I was a kid," I said with a shrug.  It was basically the truth, even if it was vague.

"They made fun of something so nice?  No wonder why you left."

I gave Varric a suspicious, sidelong glance.  Was he  _flirting_ with me?

No.  He wasn't.  He was  _Varric._  That was...that was...well, uh..."I didn't just leave," I said before the silence became noticeable.  "I fell right through the air.  Much more dramatic that way, you see."

"Uh huh."  We walked through the hall and down the stairs to the tavern together.  Though it was fairly early in the day, there was still a fair amount of people taking up their usual spots on splintered, creaking stools and chairs.  After the first couple weeks of staying here, my senses had become numb to the stench of unwashed bodies, piss, ale, vomit, and, for some reason, cabbage.  It just reminded me of the color brown.  

"You look oddly cheerful for being kicked out into an alienage," Isabela said as she slid off the bar counter she was perched on, a bottle of mysterious drink in her hand.  It probably wasn't the first for the day, either.

"Sometimes, I think that you'll make a sudden movement and your liver will suddenly slide out of your body," I said seriously.  "So please, do be careful.  Or drink a glass of water every now and then."

"Somebody cares about me?  How adorable," Isabela gasped sardonically as she came over to put an arm around me.  "And I'll have you know that I stay  _very_ hydrated."

Joined by the Pirate Queen, we continued to walk out into the streets of Lowtown.  The day was already increasing in temperature, much to my dislike.  Because not only was it hot here, but it was humid as well.  I couldn't even complain, either; I  _was_ supposed to be from the Free Marches, after all.  

The two Hawkes were lounging on the stairs to Gamlen's house as we passed.  Garrett raised a hand in greeting, a jovial grin on his face.  "Alaran!  Varric!  Isabela!  What're you three doing?"

"I got booted from the Hanged Man," I answered.  "I'll be at the alienage if any of you need me."

"What?" they both exclaimed simultaneously.

"I told you this three days ago," Varric chuckled.  

_"When,_ three days ago," Garrett said back, hazel eyes narrowed.  

"...When we were fighting bandits."

Hawke threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly, then used that motion to push himself up when they came back down.  Carver followed quietly.  "Where's all your clothes?" the elder brother demanded to know.

"In my pack."

"All of your clothes.  Fit in that pack."

"Believe it or not, but not all of us can make it doing random and bizarre jobs for coin," I said airily.  "And Aveline got too much heat for having an incompetent Dalish elf running messages for her, so I no longer have a small trickle of money coming my way.  It was my choice, not hers; I figured the Captain of the Guard didn't need any more drama."  I briefly bit my lip and shrugged.  "I was offered a job at the Blooming Rose, though, so I might look into that."

"You're not serious, are you?" Carver asked incredulously. 

With a completely straight face, I turned my head to him and said, "Oh, Carver, don't worry.  I'll make sure they give you a discount whenever you come to see me."

"T-that's not wh-what I--"  His face then reddened and he scowled when he saw my amused expression.  "Shut it, elf."

"Well, if I get a job at the Blooming Rose, 'shutting it' won't be in my job description.  Because, you know, my legs will be--"

"Oh, for Maker's sake!"

"I think you'd be quite the commodity if you take bed up there," Isabela continued on.  "Everybody would want to get a piece of the mysterious Dalish woman, especially if they're the  _first_ one."

"You know, I don't get it with the whole virginity thing," I pondered aloud.  

"Could you--" Carver tried to interrupt, but I kept going.

"One would think you'd want a trained, experienced woman.  All I'd be doing is laying there as they had their way with me."

"Men believe that they can insert their dominance through 'claiming' virginity," Isabela responded knowingly.  "They're simple creatures, and they think with only one thing.  But  _women,_ on the other hand..."  Her smirk matched mine.  "We can think with the same things we use against men towards our advantage.  So while they need us, we don't necessarily need them."

"Why, Isabela, you're sounding like a feminist," I drawled.

"I don't know what that means, love, but it sounds like a good thing," Isabela said back.

"Feminist?" Hawke repeated.  "What's that?"

"Please tell me you have feminism," I groaned with sinking dread.  That wasn't even a  _good_ description of feminism that Isabela gave, and now they were all wondering about it.

"Nope," Varric said, a wicked, curious glint in his eye that screamed he wasn't going to be swayed from the new topic.

_Fight or Flight, Alaran?  Fight or Flight?_

"Welp!" I declared, holding the straps on my pack with both hands.  "I'll see you guys later!"

Without another word, I booked it to the alienage, kicking dust up with each step.

Yeah...not one of my proudest moments.

-

"So, so lonely," Hawke said to me as I sat alone in the streets of Kirkwall.  "I could help you.  You wouldn't have to be alone.  Never again."

"Go away, demon," I replied tiredly, my finger twirling in the light layer of dust that had settled on the ground.  "I'm not a mage.  You all should know this, by now.  I have nothing to offer."

"Oh, but you do.  You have so much  _more_ to offer, in fact."  A hand lightly ran through my hair.  Even though it made me hate myself, I let it.  I hadn't been touched in any way in more than a month, and secretly was starving for affection.  And with the hair I now had, all I wanted was to have it played with.  "A person, trapped in a body that does not belong to them?  It hurts you that you cannot tell any of your so-called friends about who you really are."  Hawke's voice shifted into Isabela's.  "Give me your body, and all the pain will be gone.  You won't have to worry about them finding out, about them shunning you because of what you know.  I will guard your secrets with my life.  I swear it.  Just let me in."

A pause.

"Never."

The fingers twisted around my hair and locked themselves into place.  My head was yanked back to look into the eyes of Aveline.  But I knew it wasn't her, not really.  It was a despair demon, I figured.  Or maybe desire?  A shade?  I honestly didn't know.  But it was a demon nonetheless, and I wasn't letting anything into this perfectly healthy body of mine.  "You  _will_ submit," it snarled.

"No.  I'm going to wake up."

My eyes opened to look at the floor of my room.  Great.  I had fallen off my bed.  Again.  Freaking again.

The stomach I hadn't fed for a day and a half grumbled in protest.  I curled around it long enough for the ache to subside.  I was always so  _hungry,_ and I couldn't feed myself.  Not when I had no money and I was too proud to ask for any food from anybody else.  The other elves in the alienage didn't trust me because of my markings, anyhow, so if I went to them they would most likely turn me away.  And Merrill...oh, I couldn't take from that precious flower.  She needed all the food she could get.

In the game, Merrill's home was, while crummy, fairly large.  If not large, then spacious enough to have guests and everything.  So of course that's what I thought when I walked in.  But oh no.  Merrill, for some reason, got the V.I.P. room at the alienage.  While I, on the other hand, got the  _actual_ room at the alienage, which had two rooms:  one for bedroom and kitchen, and the other for a bathroom.  And by bathroom I mean that it was a tiny, closet-spaced area with a hole in the floor.  

Ugh.

There was a slim chance of me getting back to sleep for the night.  So I pushed myself up off the ground and made my way outside.  In Kirkwall, the nights didn't cool off so much as they became less humid, so I took that as a small blessing.  The  _vhenadahl_ awaited me, its trunk aglow with the small candles dotted about its base.  I remembered in the gameplay how Merrill spoke about watching somebody get mugged out here, but if anybody mugged me all they would find was...well, nothing.  I had absolutely nothing to have taken from me.

I kept walking until I was close enough to the tree where I could sit in front of it and gaze up at the dark, shadowy leaves.  

Why was I here?

Not that I intended to get all existential; it was a real, serious question.  Why was I  _here?_ In a video game that, from the looks and feel of it, was a very real place.  I wasn't some mighty warrior with a skill set that would aid the Champion and his friends.  I wasn't some ancient hero of legend that was thrown into another world that needed saving.  I wasn't  _anybody._ I was just...me.  I was just a girl who loved music and art and riding horses and being in plays and politics, who was a nerd on severe levels, who was dying of cancer, who was...who was...

Nobody.  

Hawke didn't need me.  His destiny was already set.  He would go into the Deep Roads and find fortune there.  He would defeat the Arishok.  He would watch as Anders blew up the Chantry.  He would kill Meredith.  And he would do it with his friends.

They didn't need me.  If anything, I was just another side character, one that they would help for a little while but ultimately move on from.  I was an NPC.  I was a faceless, voiceless figure in the background meant solely to fill space.

"You have an old sadness about you."

Soft footsteps padded the ground, and before too long Merrill came and sat beside me, crossing her legs in the same fashion.  "I'ts not a bad thing, of course.  But I can see it, in your eyes.  They're heavy.  You carry too many stories and secrets with you.  It must be a burden."

For a few moments I just stared at the other elf.  Then I cast my gaze to one of the small, flickering candles.  "I'd rather burden myself with it than harm others."

"That's how it usually goes, doesn't it?  We'd rather inflict pain upon ourselves than watch it unravel the worlds of those around us."  Merrill aimlessly drug a finger in the dirt.  "I would understand if you wished to leave.  Traveling soothes the ache of the weight on our hearts.  But, if it's any consolation, we would all miss you."

"We?"  I had whispered it so quietly I wasn't sure if Merrill had heard it.

"Yes.  Me, Hawke, Varric, Isabela...all of us.  Even Fenris, and I don't think he quite likes anybody."

"Why?"  The word was even quieter than the last.

Still, she heard.  "There's something about you that people are drawn to.  You're...oh, I've forgotten the word.  If there really is one for it.  You're...you, Alaran.  You're Alaran.  I don't think there's a better word to describe you, actually."

I reined my emotions in before Merrill could see them.  The elf's lilting voice turned melancholic.  "When you found out I was a blood mage, you didn't cringe like the others did when I revealed it to them.  You just gave one of your smiles and said that you hoped I wouldn't accidentally bleed out.  I doubt you knew at the time how comforting that was to me.  But now you do, so..."  She stood up and brushed off her backside, then extended a hand towards me.  "You look like you need to eat.  I understand that we elves are skinny, but you are more so than most."

After a moment, I took it.  "Whatever you say,  _hahren."_

_-_

"Otherworld!"

My blood ran cold and my heart rate spiked.  I moved my gaze over to Sandal, who was gazing right back at me.  Except, his was much happier than mine most likely was.  "Otherworld!"

"Pardon my son," Bodahn said nonchalantly as he pulled out my payment.  I had been told by an elf in the alienage that he would give fair prices for anything, even if it was just "junk."  So I spent most of the day collecting odds and ends just so I could put some food in my stomach.  And with the promise of a meal, I would gladly face a day of being hot and in the sun while digging through barrels and crates on the docks and in Lowtown.  "He's..."

"Special," I finished with a small smile.  "Don't worry, Messere Feddic.  There are much worse things to be."

"Right you are, serah.  And here's some copper for you!"  He plunked a few coins in my hand, which I quickly transferred to my empty coin purse.

My eyes moved to the sketchbook on the table, unable to help myself.  As soon as I saw it, my longing to fill its pages heightened.  "Do you draw?" Bodahn inquired.

I flicked my eyes back to him.  "Only as a hobby.  Have a nice day, messere."

"And you, as well!"

I began walking away, eager to spend the coin I had on whatever food that was cheap enough to buy.  Halfway across the courtyard, however, I heard running behind me.  My hand shot down to my purse in case there was a thief trying to catch me unaware and planning on pick pocketing me.  Instead, though, there was a tap on my shoulder.  I looked behind me to see Sandal, panting and holding the sketchbook and two pouches in his hands.

"Otherworld."  It was said sadly, sympathetically.  

Unwanted tears sprang to my eyes.  I glanced over his shoulder to see Bodahn waving and urging me on to take it.  Hesitantly, I did so.  As soon as I did, Sandal beamed and laughed.

"Thank you, Sandal," I said with as much sincerity I could muster.  "Thank you."

"You are welcome."

It felt like a small weight had been lifted off my chest.  As I made my way back to the alienage with a bag of food in one hand and the sketchbook in the other, I was smiling.  Yes, Kirkwall was shit.  Yes, it was going to get shittier.  And yes, I didn't know my place in this whole story yet.

But there were good people here.  They were worth staying for.  They were worth drawing.

So as I sat down at my rickety kitchen table and savored the small meal I prepared for myself, I opened the first pouch that accompanied the sketchbook and saw that there were slim, sturdy pieces of coal inside with enchantments engraved on the bottom to keep from breaking.  The second was a type of powder and brush I figured coated the coal drawing to keep it from smudging.  The three items combined easily could have been worth an entire gold piece, but out of the kindness of a dwarf I barely knew, I had received it for free.

Sandal and Bodahn Feddic were the two I drew on my very first page of my sketchbook.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you lovelies enjoy this AU. And let me remind you that, while I love doing it, the fact that it makes you happy makes me love posting these things even more.


	4. Elfroot Brings Friends to the Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets into the pattern of her new life.

"You're weak."

"Is this all the strength you have?  How dismal."

"Already tiring?  Typical."

"No wonder--"

"SHUT UP FENRIS!"

I cleaved my greatsword, parried, then punched the stupid elf in the nose as he pushed away my sword with his own.  He stumbled backwards, which gave me enough time to rain down blow after blow.  I had to give it to him, though; despite the blood flowing freely from both his nostrils, he still managed to defend himself a little while longer before I swung so hard it ripped his weapon from his hands.  

Fenris looked down at his sword, then at me.  "You're improving."  He said it with almost a sneer.

In _Dragon Age II,_ he had never really been my favorite.  I mean, yeah, his voice was like a jar of brooding honey, but it seemed like whenever I did something remotely nice to anybody I would get like +100 rivalry.  I didn't like how he never saw that people could still be good, even if they were mages, or that they could be bad, even if they weren't.  Still, I understood where he was coming from and the traumatic past he overcame, and I liked his dark sense of humor.

But, after Aveline asked him to continue my training, I couldn't find a good reason to remotely  _like_ Fenris.  He was an asshole.

"You're an asshole," I growled as I picked away at the skin on my blistered hands, stating what exactly was on my mind.

"And you're a brat who doesn't like the fact that she's not automatically good at something," Fenris said back, his voice nasally from having to plug his nose to staunch the blood.  "Yet I still obliged to train you."   Once his nose stopped bleeding, he strode forward and roughly grabbed my hand.  "You'll get an infection if you keep doing that.  But I suppose common sense is not one of your strong suits."

I forced up my veneer so I wouldn't give Fenris the satisfaction of goading me.  He deftly bandaged my palms and fingers in silence.  Merrill said that she thought Fenris would even miss me if I left.  I severely reconsidered that statement.  I bet the ex-slave would drink himself into a happy stupor upon my departure.

His empty mansion was soon filled once more with the clang of metal on metal, along with the occasional grunt or hiss.  I was still a bit pissed that I didn't come here with expert knowledge in the warrior field, but ultimately glad that I had the strength to be one.  Also, I was picking up more quickly than what was probably normal, so it wasn't as if I was completely hopeless.  

Fenris struck my shoulder with his pommel.  There was a  _crack_ as I felt bone displace itself from its rightful socket.  I snarled in pain, but knew that he wouldn't stop even with my injury.  My sword deflected a few more blows, giving me enough time to jump back and shove my shoulder back into place.  The pain made my eyesight go blurry for a few moments, but it cleared in time to see Fenris coming down on me with his own greatsword.  I blocked it, but my footing was in the wrong place.  My legs buckled and the two of us fell to the ground.  

So, doing the only rational thing there was, I headbutted Fenris right in the schnoz.  Which, unfortunately, was the same place I had punched him only a short while ago.

The thing about headbutting, though, is that it  _hurts._ My own skull rattled as we connected.  I was thankful my neck hadn't been sliced on the swords perilously close to my flesh, and even more thankful that it actually had an effect on Fenris.  

He was dazed enough for me to throw him off of my body and roll back up to my feet.  My shoulder still throbbed, but I ignored it and raised my greatsword.  It never came down, though, because as much as I thought Fenris was rotten, I would never want to kill him.  

"You wanna keep going?" I asked bluntly.  "Or do we need to go see Anders so he can fix your messed up nose?  With _magic."_

Fenris was scowling as he stood.  "No."  

"Is that an answer to the first or second question?  You _have_ to be specific here, Fenris."

"We're done for the day," he snarled lowly.  I shrugged and moved to wrap my greatsword back in its cloth and leather, where I would keep it propped in one of the corners of Fenris' mansion.  I was moving to leave, but couldn't help glimpsing at the way he was holding his head back as he tried to keep his nose from bleeding out once more.

With a resigned sigh, I stopped and turned on my heels to walk up to him.  He immediately saw me approaching.  "I said leave--"

One of my hands shot out the back of his head and forced it forward.  "If you let the blood drain into your throat, it'll make you sick," I explained dryly.  "Surely somebody taught you that."  I pointed to a nearby table with my free hand.  "Sit.  I'm going to get some ice from the cold box."

"I don't need ice."

"Uh, yes, yes you do.  You really do, Fenris.  Jeez, you really are helpless, aren't you?"

I opened his almost entirely bare cold box and clawed out several chunks of ice, then wrapped them in a cloth.  Fenris was sitting when I came back, still as gloomy as ever.  I took up a chair next to him and swatted his hand away so I could put the ice pack on his nose.  "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said.  

"Only a smidge," I answered.  "You  _did_ dislocate my shoulder, after all."

"Because you left yourself open--"

"Sarcasm, Fenris.  Sarcasm.  You should read a book on it."

"I can't read."

I paused, tilting my head.  Then I snorted a laugh.  "Huh.  You know what?  Neither can I.  I just realized that."

"How can you just barely realize that?"

I leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, "I'm actually from a different world, and I've come here to study this realm before reporting back to my superiors, the Time Lords.  So I think you can understand why I can't read or write."

It was his turn to snort.  

 -

My sketchbook that day was filled with cartoon drawings of Fenris.  None of them were really all that nice.  

I was preparing some sort of vegetable medley with little chunks of ram meat in it when there was a knock on the door.  I cringed, hoping that the door itself wouldn't fall off its hinges, then walked over to answer it.  

Hawke, Varric, and Anders stood at the entrance.  "Hello!" Hawke immediately boomed.  "We were just on our way to pick up Merrill when we decided we'd stop by and, well, say hello."

"Hey, guys," I smiled.  "Do you want to come in and eat?  I think I have enough food to spare."  

I didn't, but I wasn't going to say otherwise.

They all stepped inside as I moved to tend to my meal on the little stove I had.  I was rambling about how I wished I had some way to cook outside so my house wouldn't get any more stifling than it already was.  "Al, what's this?" Varric asked, interrupting me.

"What's what?" I immediately asked back, turning my head to see what he was talking about.  

The dwarf stood over my open sketchbook of Fenris cartoons, an amused yet slightly puzzled smile on his face.  "I didn't know you--"

I had already snatched the sketchbook away before he finished his sentence.  It was bad enough he had even  _seen_ it, but I had also written things Fenris was saying in bubbles.  In English.  "What are you talking about Varric?" I said hastily as I shoved the book under my small, worn pillow. 

His chuckle was, while not unkind, certainly teasing.  "Is there some hidden artistic prodigy stowed away in that mind of yours?  That'd certainly be a plot twist."

"Oh, come on, Varric, leave her alone," Anders said, though from the tone of his voice it didn't sound like he would be sticking up for me.  "So what if she wants to draw love doodles of our favorite lyrium elf?  Let her sigh over him all she wants."

 _"That's_ why you keep going back for 'training,'" Varric remarked.  

"I don't blame her," Hawke added.  "I bet he tells you all sorts of naughty sword tactics with that voice of his."  Then he tossed back his head and barked a laugh.  "Ha!   _Sword tactics."_

They continued on with their antics for a short while, but trailed off when there was a short, stifled whimper.

Tears pooled in my eyes as I stirred the food with a wooden spoon.  My lip was being intensely bitten down on.  "Al," Varric said remorsefully, "we didn't mean anything by it."

"No!" Hawke agreed quickly.  "We were just having fun!  Shit.  No!  That's not what I  _meant_ by that.  I meant--"

"We're sorry," Anders said, taking a step forward and holding his hands out apologetically.  "That's what he meant."  Then the former Warden's eyes narrowed, catching the twitch in the corner of my lip.  "Wait a second..."

I bowed my head and began snickering.  Anders rushed forward and jabbed at my sides.  I shrieked and started hitting him with my cooking utensil to try to get him off me.  "You--little--shit--" He said through grinning, gritted teeth.

"Get off!" I squealed, then, without meaning to, accidentally used my unnatural strength to shove Anders off of me.  His arms windmilled and he crashed into Hawke.  "All three of you!  Out of my shack!  Now!"

"Oh ho ho, Al's an  _actress_ now, too!" Varric shouted.  "Now I'm not going to trust any emotion you show!"

 _You fools!  I took state in serious solo!  I can produce tears and a heartbreaking reflective story at a whim!_ I wanted to shout, but I refrained.  

"You come into my abode, disgrace me,  _tickle_ me, and now you're judging me?" I instead shouted back.  Waving a finger, I said in a deep voice, "No no no, not in my house."

"But--but you offered us food!" Hawke cried out.  

I loudly sighed and drug a hand over my face, which pulled my eyelids and lips down.  "I did, didn't I?"

"And you wouldn't want to be a bad hostess."  Hawke was basically pouting, now.  

I glared at them.

-

Four bowls and an empty pan later, the three noobs were on their way, leaving me alone once more.  They were headed to the Bone Pit, today.  I told them to watch out for the dragons.  They looked at me in confusion.  I made several erratic hand gestures in explanation and sent them off.

_So, so lonely._

I steeled myself away from such thoughts.  I had them enough during the night; there was no room for them in the day.  And I had been alone for a long time, even back on Earth.  I could deal.  I could live through it.

To keep myself busy from the dark corners of my mind, I slung my newly purchased satchel on and donned a large, floppy hat I found in a pile of rubble.  It protected me from the blast of the sun and, though I looked absolutely ridiculous in it, covered my ears and  _vallaslin_ from unwanted eyes.

In all reality, my outfits were some sort of atrocity or another.  All of my tunics had their sleeves cut at the shoulder and rolled inward to hide the frayed edges.  A dagger was stashed along my belt, covered by the oversized top.  My poor, sad boots now sat in a corner, silently judging me each time I stepped outside wearing footwraps instead of them.  My leggings were worn at the kneecaps from all the crawling and creeping I did.  I would have to patch them up, soon.  But first...I would have to learn how to sew.  

That outfit combined with my floppy hat made me look like the scavenger I was.  I was saving up for a lute; music could provide company when nobody else would.  I would teach myself how to play.  It wasn't as if I had an actual job or life to worry about.  And Bodahn said he would give me a deal on it if I brought back a bundle of elfroot.

So off to the outskirts of Kirkwall it was.  Even though it was in the middle of the afternoon and the weather was sweltering, it was better than staying indoors and accidentally getting a heat stroke or something.

Few glanced at me as I made my way through the city gates and traveled up one of the paths along the mountainside.  In the game, everything was simple and not very detailed; here, the paths were sandy with little bits of grass poking through, the rocks were glistening from the humidity, and my ears were filled with the sound of the Waking Sea crashing against the craggy shoreline below.  Kirkwall itself wasn't a very pretty place, but the area around it was absolutely breathtaking.  

 _"Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hawt like me,"_ I sang to myself as I crouched down and tugged up some elfroot.   _"Don't cha with your girlfriend was a geek like me?  Don't cha..."_

I swung the satchel in front of me and placed the elfroot inside.  It was the last of the little patch I had found nestled between some rocks, so I stood and looked around beneath the giant rim of my hat.  I should get a staff.  A staff would be cool.  Wait.  Then I might be taken as a mage and imprisoned.  But a staff would be so  _handy._ It would make me look like the destitute bum I really was.  

My face lit up when I saw another small patch.  I didn't know how much elfroot Bodahn wanted, so I was going to harvest as many as I could before night fell.  Or at least until my satchel was full.  "Score!" I crowed, and climbed up the rocks on the hillside to get to it.   _"Don't cha wish your girlfriend was elfy like me.  Don't cha wish your girlfriend was smart like me--"_

"Who goes there?" a deep voice demanded to know.  I paused and looked over my shoulder, tipping my hat up with a thumb to see who was talking to me.

oh.

It was a Qunari.

He was alone, thankfully, but nonetheless intimidating.  A giant spear was strapped to his shirtless back, giving him the ability to shish kabob me at any given moment.

"Hello," I blurted quietly.  "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

He crossed his arms.  "Do you pose a threat to my life?"

"I could kill you with bad puns, I suppose," I said with a shrug and turned fully around, seating my butt in the sandy grass.  "But I doubt I could even reach your face if I wanted to punch it.   _Or_ I could just go right to your nads, because if I tried punching you in the stomach I think my knuckles would break."

"You speak too much," the Qunari said.  

"What if I'm speaking just to distract you from my  _band of thieves!"_ I pointed over his shoulder dramatically.  It made him turn, only to see empty space.  When he looked back to me, he was frowning.  I flashed a grin.  "Just kidding.  I'm all alone.  Collecting..."  I reached behind me and yanked up some elfroot.  "This!"

"You walk in dangerous territory, girl."  His eyes followed the elfroot in my hand as I put it in my satchel.  "These hillsides are teeming with Tal-Vashoth, bandits, and vile creatures."

"Oh, the spiders aren't so bad as long as you keep quiet and kind of make this  _chittering_ noise," I answered nonchalantly.  "Tal-Vashoth and bandits, on the other hand...well, I haven't encountered any, yet, so I don't know what noise I'd make."  I peered closer at the Qunari.  "Are you of the Qun, or are you Vashoth?"

He tipped his chin almost in pride.  "I am Tal-Vashoth.  But, unlike my brothers and sisters, I do not actively seek out destruction and death."

"So what are you doing out here?  Out for a nice stroll in this dreadful heat?"  My eyes narrowed.  "Or are you also collecting elfroot?  Do I have a new competitor?"

"No," the Vashoth growled, but I was beginning to think that was his actual voice.  "I was...curious.  That hat of yours can be seen from a ways off; I merely wished to see who was underneath it."

"Well," I stated grandly, spreading my arms out wide.  "Now you know."  I made a noise as I got back to my feet.  "Alright, it was nice talking to you!  If you excuse me, I need to get back to gathering; dusk is only a few hours away, and I plan to squeeze out every minute before then."

"You are putting yourself in danger.  My brethren are not as I am."

"Then maybe you could help me pick elfroot so I can finish quicker," I spoke mildly, not really expecting him to agree.

"Very well."

The hulking oxman climbed up beside me and began tugging plants up from the ground.  I slipped my satchel off and placed it in front of us so we could drop them in.  "What's your name?" I asked as I wiped trickling sweat from my brow.

"I am Maraas."

 _The honorable Tal-Vashoth._ "Nice to meet you, Maraas.  My name's Alaran."

"You are an elf, yes?"

I lifted my hat off to momentarily reveal my ears and  _vallaslin._ "Yep."

"Where is your clan?"

"I have no clan," I sighed.  "Or, at least not now.  Not sure if I ever did.  I had a little accident, you see, and my memory is pretty fuzzy."  I had become so invested in the lie that it almost seemed to be the truth, now.  "Wound up in Kirkwall.  Now I live in the alienage, but I get by on the money I receive from doing scavenging like this."  

"We do what we must."

Maraas put the last plant into the satchel.  We stood and made our way back onto the path.  "Why don't you get out of Kirkwall?  You could get away from the Qunari stranded here.  A shit-storm is brewing up something awful.  The sooner you leave, the better chance you have of not being dead."

"Mercenary work is not a job I am fond of seeking.  It is only a rung above banditry," Maraas answered.  

"Oh, it's not so bad," I contemplated.  "You get paid, at least."

"And sell my soul for coin?"

"See," I said, pointing up at him and having to crane my head back to look past my hat, "there's your problem, right there.  You're still torn between the teachings of the Qun and your own beliefs."

"And what would you know of the Qun,  _venak hol?"_

"Hey, don't be throwing insults," I said, nudging Maraas on the arm with my elbow.   _Thank you, Dragon Age Wiki.  You are my savior.  And a shoutout to my eidetic memory!  You da real MVP._ "I know enough that the Qun can brainwash its followers.  I can see how alluring it may be to those in need of stability, but it really tries to lock you in place, doesn't it?  Who cares if you become a mercenary?  As long as you believe that you aren't selling your soul for coin, you won't.  Besides, I think it'd be interesting to be a merc.  You can travel all across Thedas, meet all sorts of people, collect stories and songs, understand cultures..."  I sighed longingly.  "That'd be the life."

"You sound as if you want to join a mercenary company, yourself."

We hit another patch of elfroot.  "Oh, I bet I'd be one of the worst mercenaries in the business," I chuckled.  "I haven't even killed a person, before, and I tend to think I know what's best.  But I could be, like, the mercenary company's certified herb gatherer!  Also, I'm not too bad of a cook, either.  And I've got plenty of jokes to go around, liven the mood a little."

Maraas grunted, but didn't say anything further.  His company, as stoic and stand-offish as it was, made me happy.  I started humming as I worked.  The Tal-Vashoth and I chatted sporadically until my satchel was brimming with elfroot.  By the time we finished, the sun hang low in the sky and the gulls called for rest as they swarmed the shoreline below.  "Thank you,  _ma falon,"_ I said before we departed, holding out my hand for him to shake.  "You were a great help, today.  Now I can put some food on my table and then some."

He shook it back, engulfing my hand with his giant gray one.  "You are welcome,  _talan."_

I raised an eyebrow and smirked.  "Oh, so now you're calling me truth, huh?  I'm flattered."

"Your knowledge of Qunlat is unusual, for a Dalish elf.  Perhaps some day I will know how you came to understand the language," Maraas said.  

 _The internet._ "Until then," I winked, "you'll just have to suffer through."  I straightened my shoulders.  "Oh, and before I go, I just want to say that the word  _maraas_ doesn't suit you."

"And what does?"

I tilted my head, pretending to briefly consider his question even though I had the answer a while ago.  "Saam.  Because now that you're outside of the Qun, that's what you are."

Before he could say anything I raised a hand in a short wave.  "I'll see you around, Saam.  Don't go dying or anything."  

Then I was on my way back to Kirkwall, already planning to draw my new friend in my sketchbook.  I would present Bodahn with the elfroot tomorrow morning, after I soaked it in water and cleaned it of bugs and dirt.

I passed the Hanged Man on my way back to the alienage.  The door, which was wide open to let the breeze in, allowed Varric's storyteller voice to flow out into the street.  "...and I shit you not, there was a dragon!  A full-grown, fire-breathing dragon!  All of us stand there in shock for more than we should have..."

A small smile flitted across my face, and I stopped to lean against the warm wall of the tavern to listen to Varric recall how they defeated the dragon.  I didn't go in, partly because I was exhausted from being out in the sun all day, and partly because I didn't want Hawke or anybody see me in my state.  They most likely knew what I did to get by, but kept their mouths shut about it.  If I went in there, they'd be forced to acknowledge that I was basically scraping the ground for anything to sell.  I had no intention of making them feel bad because of my situation and have them compelled to help me out of pity.  And...today had been a good day for everybody, it seemed.  I didn't want my presence to put a damper on it.

Besides, I had a lute to look forward to buying, tomorrow.

Once Varric had finished his story, I continued back to the alienage.  My little hovel greeted me with its musty smell and the occasional skittering of rats.  I lit the lantern I had acquired through questionable means and got a pail of water from the well outside.  With that, I cooked a bowl of rice and used the rest to wash the elfroot, quietly singing to myself as I did so.

This life wasn't as I expected it to be.  But it wasn't bad.

Even if I did have to go see Fenris again on the morrow.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maraas: "nothing" or "alone"  
> Saam: "something"  
> Venak hol: "weary one"
> 
> If anything, I think I wanted Alaran's life to be drastically different than the one she has in Inquisition. Here, she's not thrust into greatness, so she has to make do with whatever she has, and work hard just to survive. She's not the Herald of Andraste who has almost everything handed to her; she's just another elf in a crowd, trying to get by with whatever means she can. 
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying. Stay lovely.


	5. Throwing Stones and Throwing Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets in a predicament or two.

"Anders!  Anders!"

He looked up from the cot he was cleaning to see Alaran sprint through the door, somehow pulling herself to a complete stop a few feet away before she ran into anything.  Or, more specifically, before she ran into  _him._

"Ah, hello, Alaran," he said mildly as he continued what he was doing.  "What can I--"

"Somebody poisoned the well in the alienage.  Merrill managed to cleanse the water, but there are still a lot of elves who drank out of it," Alaran spoke rapidly.  She was basically wearing rags as clothes; there were holes in the knees of her leggings, her footwraps were thin and worn, and her faded red tunic was threadbare.  She wore a ridiculous, giant-sized hat that was only kept in place because of the small leather cord attached to it that tucked beneath her chin.  "The guards aren't doing anything about it, and I doubt they ever will.  I..."  She swallowed.  "We need your help."

He was already strapping his staff to his back and taking his bag of herbs.  "How long have they been sick?" he asked as they speedily made their way out of Darktown.  

"A day and a half, more or less," Alaran responded.  For her small legs, she was covering ground at a remarkable pace.  "I noticed there was a problem when I was cleaning some silverite I scavenged with the water.  Instead of it getting shiny, though, there was sort of a residual film left on the metal."  She huffed a laugh, mainly to herself.  "This would seriously be the worst time to scream that somebody poisoned the watering hole, huh?"

"Did you drink out of it?"

"Yeah.  I'm trying to tell myself that the dragonlings chasing us aren't real, but you can take care of me once you've tended to the others.  There are a lot that are in worse trouble than I am, and you need to save your magic for them first."

"Alaran!"

"Come on, Anders!  We don't have that much time--oh, look, that's where I threw up!  And over there, too!  You don't think any of the residents mind it, do you?  I'll come back and clean it up, I promise."  

Even with the poison coursing through Alaran's body, she was still running faster than him.  A few times she veered dangerously off-course, and would have run into a building or some crates had it not been for Anders pulling her back.  She would give him a thumbs up from over her shoulder, but still didn't ease up her speed.  Her ginormous hat flopped up and down comically as she ran.

"There," Alaran breathed as they passed through the gates.  "Over there."  Anders figured that she meant to be pointing at the sick elves huddled in the shade of their tree, so he didn't say anything when she pointed to one of the alienage buildings.

When the elves saw the two of them enter, they gave Anders the typical wary looks, but much to his surprise, they did it more so with Alaran.  And he had a feeling that it wasn't because of the  _vallaslin_ on her face or the ridiculous hat she wore.

Merrill ran up to them.  "Oh, good, I'm glad you're here.  Alaran, please, sit down.  I told her not to go after you, but the second I turned my head away she was off.  I was afraid she ran into a wall and knocked herself out, with her vertigo and everything."

Alaran laughed as she sat, but had no witty comeback like she typically would have.  "For Maker's sake, Merrill, get her into the shade and put a wet cloth over her head until I can tend to her," Anders sighed.

"Right.  Come, now, Alaran, let's get you with everybody else," Merrill said soothingly, putting her hands under Alaran's elbows and hoisting her up.

"But you just told me to sit down," Alaran complained.  "Why is it that whatever I do, people don't think it's good enough?"

"That's not what I said," Merrill replied patiently, putting the other elf's arm over her shoulder.  "Thank you for fetching Anders; he's going to help us, now.  Aren't you, Anders?"

"No, Merrill," he said dryly, "I'm going to stand here and watch as all of you wither away and die while I treat myself to some fine wine."

She looked genuinely stricken at his words.  "You're not...oh.  Right.  You were being sarcastic."

-

Carver had reluctantly volunteered to watch over Alaran as she slept.  It wasn't as if he  _wanted_ to, but neither did he want to look like an awful person when Anders said somebody needed to keep an eye on her in case she choked on her vomit or something of the sort.  He wasn't the only one who kept an eye on the elf in her shack; a rotation had started up, the only drawback being that Carver had the night shift.

It was uncomfortable, being beside Alaran as she was unconscious.  She mumbled a lot, and she squirmed, and...well, pretty girls in general made Carver uncomfortable.  Especially pretty girls who were also sick, because for some reason Anders' blasted magic didn't work on her.  He said it was due to the poison; the stuff was mage-resistant, but its affect was greater on her body than it was on the others who had been poisoned.  

He was reading a sad-looking book on her table when she stirred, a tiny cough coming from her.  When he looked up, he saw violet eyes looking right back at him.  "Hey," she said in a barely audible whisper.

"Hello," he sighed.  Sighing.  Why did he always have to  _sigh?_ Most of the time he didn't mean to; it was just the way he spoke.

"You...you shouldn't go to the Deep Roads," Alaran breathed hoarsely.

Carver's eyebrows rose a fraction.  "Oh?  And why not?"

"You'll...get the Blight."  Her voice was tired in the way that didn't want to keep secrets, anymore, and not just that her body was physically drained.  

But it wasn't a secret that there were darkspawn in those Maker damned tunnels.  "Don't worry," he assured.  "I won't."

One of her eyelids drooped shut while the other remained open.  "Now listen here...y-you little shit..."

Alaran fell back asleep.

-

"Come...on..." I grunted.  "Come on..."

My fingers brushed one of the leaves on the spindleweed plant I was attempting to pluck.  The waters of the Waking Sea crashed precariously close to me, but there was no better place to find the plants.  The little beasts weren't as easy to come by as elfroot, but they paid more money.  Instead of putting them in my satchel, I was forced to keep them hydrated in a pail of water, lest they dried up before they could be used for anything worthwhile.  

"Aha!"  I gripped the plant and pulled it upward, then chucked it in the pail that I jammed in place between rocks.   _"You need to stay in bed another week, Alaran,"_ I mimicked in Anders' voice.   _"You shouldn't be off gallivanting to wherever it is you go, Alaran.  I think I'm important because I wear feathers on my shoulders, Alaran._ Well you know what, Anders?  I've spent enough time on a bed, more than anybody should ever have to be in.  A little residual weakness from being poisoned won't stop me from doing what needs to be done."

Because I was by myself so often, I had taken up the habit of speaking out loud.  It was more amusing than anything; I thought I was pretty freaking hilarious.  There was nobody that could make me laugh like...me.

Ah, piss.  I was so alone.

After a good few hours gathering spindleweed and scraping my knees and palms on the rocks, I climbed away from the craggy shore and made it to a grassier area, where my satchel lay.  The land smoothed into a rolling hillside, sand mixing with the green, short grass.  At the top of the hill was the trail, which I would soon make my trek back to Kirkwall on.  But until then, I was going to stretch my legs out, eat a hunk of jerky wrapped in a cloth I had procured from my bag, and count how many plants I picked to determine what I would get paid.  I even found a smooth, blue little stone that I was going to give to Sandal, since he loved collecting tiny objects and storing them in a pouch for keepsake.  Last time I found him a fossilized shell in a little rock, and a while before that I gave him a red marble I picked up digging through some abandoned crates at the docks.  It always brought a grin to his face, which brought a grin to my own.

"You know," I said as I chewed through the jerky, "when I first landed in nothing but my birthday suit, I thought this was going to be kind of epic.  Hawke would ask me for my help, everybody would love me, I would be a dashing, lovable companion, full of humorous, witty banter.  I'm still the last, of course, and  _most_ of the companions love me, but...it's not."  I popped the last of the jerky in my mouth and stretched out, lacing my hands behind my head and staring up at the blue sky, which was strewn with faint, wispy, cirrus clouds.   _"Still,_ though...it's a buttload better than dying.  You're alive, Alaran.  Working hard, barely getting by, an entirely new species, and...you're alive.  How amazing is that?  I think I could make a living collecting plants; I'm getting a hang of it.  Herb picker by day, and suave, sexy lute player by night.  That could work out really well."

I wanted to place my hat over my face and take a little snooze, but I would probably get robbed and/or killed if I did.  And besides, the sooner I got back to Bodahn, the quicker I would get coin to buy my next meal.  But I was going to enjoy this little moment of peace and...

Not calm.

The sounds of metal clanging and magic blasting carried on the breeze.  I lifted my head up and looked around, but saw nothing save for sand, grass, and rocks.  It must have been coming from the other side of the hill.  

_You have nothing to do with this.  Just gather your things, and go._

Psh.  Like I was going to listen to common sense when I was so interested to see what was happening.  "Curiosity killed the cat, they said," I muttered as I clambered to my feet and shoved my hat back on.  "But since it was a  _cat_ and not a charming, humorous, sharp human-- _elf--_ get your crap together, Alaran--the probability of me being maimed or killed is considerably lower."  I kept low to the ground as I crested the hilltop.  "Innovations,  _advancements of society,_ have been due to one curious person.  Though I doubt I'll make some remarkable discovery, I...you have no idea where you were going with this, were you?  Yeah, Alaran, let's just go and get ourselves killed?  What do we have for a weapon?  A giant hat that, when waved, causes slight discomfort to others because of the flimsy motions it makes?  Of course!  Oh, and you also have knife-ears!  Too bad they're not  _throwing_ knife-ears.  Evolution is so cruel.  Hmm, what else does your arsenal consist of?  I could take off my breast band and choke enemies..."

My conversation came to an end when I saw who was engaging in battle.  It was Hawke, Varric, Anders, and Fenris, going up against a swarm of Tal-Vashoth.  They were probably the ones that Saam warned me about.   _Okay, don't think about how close you were to them as you crawled and squirmed over rocks for four hours._

What I  _did_ think about was the fact that the soon-to-be Champion and his friends were greatly outnumbered.  Though they were doing well and fighting their hardest, there seemed to be no end to the Tal-Vashoth.  The outcome looked...grim.  Horribly grim.  And I doubted that they could just restart and change companions and tactics like in the game if they were all killed.  No, if they were killed, then the future would suddenly become drastically different.

I frantically looked around for anything to use, but all I had was my actual dagger resting on my hip.  The thing was so dull and small, though, I doubted it would even break the Vashoth's skin.  Plus, I didn't have dagger skills like a rogue.  If I tried to throw it, there  _might_ be a chance that I distracted one from the group--

_No, don't throw the dagger.  Throw the rocks._

I hurriedly picked some up and held them in the makeshift pouch of my tunic, then climbed atop a boulder with my free hand.  They were downhill from me, so I would have time in case any of the Vashoth broke away and tried to come after me...shit.  What if they tried to come after me?

Screw it.  

I wound an arm back, aimed as best I could at one of the enemies advancing on Hawke's turned back, and  _threw._

With bated breath, I watched as the black, jagged rock that wasn't really all that heavy soar through the air.  It wasn't gonna make it it wasn't gonna make it oh no Hawke is gonna die--

**_Bonk._ **

The Tal-Vashoth toppled to the ground.

I let out a surprised victory laugh and put another rock in my hand, this time aiming at one advancing on Varric, who was blocking his crossbow bolts with a giant shield.  I aimed and threw again, but instead of hitting the Vashoth's head, I hit his neck.  He bellowed and whipped a hand to the spot where he was hit, which made him lower his shield.  That gave Varric enough time to introduce Bianca to him.  The dwarf looked around to see who the culprit of his rescue was, but before his eyes could settle on me I was hurling more of my new found weapons at other Vashoth.  A few times all I did was clip shoulders and kneecaps, but that distracted them enough for the others to finish them off.  One time I even got a Tal-Vashoth right in the nads.  It was hilarious, and I think Hawke winced as he saw the rock  _wham_ into his opponent's private parts before he blasted him with a swath of fire.

...And then a spear was thrown at me.

I saw it out of the corner of my eye a moment before it impaled me from the side.  I moved out of the way so fast that I surprised myself with my speed, and toppled backwards off the boulder I stood so majestically on.  My hat ejected itself from my head, and a couple seconds later my back landed on the patch of rocks below, biting through my tunic and into the flesh on my back and shoulders.  Fireworks burst in the sky--wait, no, they were doing that in my brain and being projected on my eyeballs.  

Instead of rolling back up and being a total badass, I was a real person and lay on the ground, my back arched in pain as I hissed and groaned.  Peter Griffin style.

A shadow soon loomed over me.  The good part of it was, I no longer had the sun in my eyes.  The bad part of it was, I had to look at a Tal-Vashoth instead.

"Die, elf," he only growled, raising his weapon.

Before my life could flash before my eyes, a hand shrouded in metal phased through the Tal-Vashoth's stomach, aglow with the light of lyrium.  He looked down at it, gurgled lowly in the back of his throat, and fell to the ground, thankfully moving backwards and not forwards.  Otherwise I would have been killed solely from being crushed by the horned giant.

Then I was blessed with the view of Fenris.  A fuming, furious Fenris who frowned ferociously at me.  

"Well hello there," I drawled with a lazy smirk.  "I think you need to thank someone for their--" 

He reached down and roughly picked me up by the crook of my arm.  The thought of flicking one of his exposed lyrium tattoos flashed evilly through my mind, but I let it slip away.  Fenris  _did_ save my life, after all...even though I had to save his in order for him to do that.  As I was being hauled to my feet, I used the leverage to grab my hat and place it back on my head.

"What foolish idiot throws  _stones_ at Tal-Vashoth in the heat of battle?" Fenris angrily demanded to know as he led me down the path to where everybody else was most likely waiting.  

"You mean what courageous hero risks her life to help her friends...and Fenris?" I asked back.  Then I jerked a thumb to my chest.  "This girl!"

"Is there a brain in that head of yours, or is there--"

"AL!" Hawke roared as we rounded the cropping of rocks to where everybody had previously been engaged in the fight.  There was a broad grin on the mage's face.  "Andraste's sacred ass, that was  _fantastic!_ You were up there, just  _hammering_ those Tal-Vashoth bastards with..."

I couldn't keep my eyes from lingering at the corpses littered about, their dark blood staining the beautiful, warm sand I had grown to love walking on and digging my toes in.  Who had they been?  What made them leave the Qun?  What were their stories that nobody had heard?  What memories would never be shared?  

I had helped obliterate it all.  

"...thought that you had actually been impaled by that spear, with the way you fell off the rock.  Should've seen the way Fenris took that oxman out, though!  He..."  Hawke's exuberant expression and excited voice slipped.  "Alaran?  You okay?"

Fenris still had a grip on me.  I casually ripped it away and gave a small smile, putting my veneer up.  "Just peachy, Hawke.  But I have to get some spindleweed back to Bodahn, and I left it back there by the shore and I don't want anybody stealing it so I'll see you guys later, yeah?  Alright, cool."  I turned on my bare heels and planned on sprinting, but was stopped by a collective gasp.

"You might want to hold up there, Al," Varric grimaced.  "Your back is pretty torn up."

Which meant my tunic was torn up, as well.  And another one bites the dust.  Or rocks.

"Nah, I'm good," I waved off, and continued walking.  "I gotta head back before the alienage gates close and I'll be left out in the street!"

"You stay right there," Anders said in his serious voice.  I tucked my chin to my chest and heaved a sigh.  He walked up behind me, downing a lyrium potion.  "You shouldn't even be out here, doing Maker-knows-what.  Collecting spindleweed?  That sounds like a pauper's--"

"Well maybe I am a pauper," I snapped, looking at him from over my bleeding shoulder.  "A pauper who enjoys collecting spindleweed."

He raised his hands up in humble submission.  "Right, right.  I should be the last to judge.  What I  _will_ judge, though, is that hat of yours."

"Then that gives me permission to judge those scrappy feathers on your shoulders.  Did you get caught between transfiguring into a grungy pigeon?"

"Well isn't somebody  _sassy_ today," Anders muttered as he waved a hand over my back.  

"Are you even doing anything?" I asked, trying to peer behind me while avoiding looking at the bodies.

His only answer was a furrow of his eyebrows.  "Everything alright, Blondie?" Varric called.  "You haven't lost your touch, have you?"

"She...her... _what?"_ Anders said to himself after several moments.   _"What?"_

"If you're quite done," I said, "I'm just going to go--"

Anders locked my shoulder into place and slapped the hand he was supposedly healing with onto my back.  "Work, dammit!"

"Ow!  Anders?  What the hell?"

"Whoa," Hawke gushed, rushing beside Anders.  "Is it not...?"

"No!  And I don't know why!"  His hand pressed deeper into my back, which sparked an almost... _tingly_ feeling.  "Ha!  I  _got it!"_

Then the feeling vanished.  Anders threw his hands up in the air in rage, and gave an accompanying bellow.  "Well," Hawke said with his iconic raised eyebrow.  "That's not something you see every day."

"What?  Anders having a complete meltdown?"  We looked over to the feathered mage, who was off to the side kicking up grass.

"No--well,  _yes,_ and it's really funny, but, uh, Al...magic, it seems, doesn't work on you," he answered.  

I blinked.  

Then blinked again.  

"...Okay.  Well, I  _still_ need to get back to my pail, if that's alright with you guys..."  I took a tentative step forward, then another, and another until I was clear enough to start booking it.   _Oh, no, this isn't at all suspicious!  And hey, now I know that magic doesn't work on me, even when it works_ ** _on everybody in Thedas._** _Certainly this won't raise any questions, right?_

"Al!" Varric called as I ran.  "How did you know about the dragons in the Bone Pit?"

"A dragon lady told me!" I called back, pulling the answer out of my ass.  That should keep them preoccupied for a while, thinking that Flemeth came to me.  If they told me who she was, though, I would vehemently call them liars and say that they were crazy; I couldn't let my kinda big secret out just yet.  Or ever.

Let's shoot for never, shall we?

I got back to my spindleweed which was, thankfully, still sitting there, along with my satchel.  I picked the two up, feeling the blood on my back already making my tunic stick to my skin.  Gross.  I needed to go to the communal baths in the alienage after I dropped off my hard-earned leafies.  And buy a new tunic, unfortunately.   _Or_ I could just ransack Fenris' mansion when he wasn't  _home,_ find a tunic there, maybe a pair of trousers, too, and hey, maybe a silver ring or something--

No.  Don't be a lowlife.  Or... _lowerlife._ Even if it did concern Fenris.

-

Sandal was extremely happy with the little blue stone I gave to him, but less-than-that when he saw how scraped up my back was.  It must have been worse than I thought, from the way even Bodahn looked concerned.  I reassured them that I just took a little spill and would have it taken care of, but he gave me a healing potion to help out with it, saying that he had an idea of what my notion of "taken care of" was and wasn't too confident in it.

It was a generous and kind gesture, one that I accepted gratefully and humbly.  The potion would have cost me more than my entire earnings for the day, so I promised that I would partake of it once I reached the safety of my own home.

I did.  

Well, I took a  _sip._ The healing potion tasted like Daryl Dixon's seventeenth season sweat.*

It never crossed my mind that I  _detested_ drinking liquids that didn't taste all that great.  Most people would simply cinch up, plug their nose, and drain it, if that.  But not me.  I was an absolute baby when it came to drinking stuff.  But the potion was too expensive to simply throw up; I would  _have_ to down it, especially if I didn't want an infection to start.

So there I sat, staring at the lone, corked bottle in the middle of my rickety table like it was the prime suspect in a murder investigation.  For a solid hour.  Oh, I did some pacing and chin rubbing and eye narrowing, but that still didn't lessen the throbbing in my back and shoulders.

I gave myself a pep talk to help me.  "Okay, Alaran, you got this.  You got this  _so hard._ That potion is going down.  It's going down like...like Mario in one of those pipes!  Ugh.  Horrible analogy.  Never use that again.  It's going down like  _The Office_ when Michael Scott left!  It's going down like the stock market in 2008!  It's going down, I'm yelling timber!  John Cena this bitch!"  I swiftly grabbed the healing potion, uncorked it, and tossed it back, quickly swallowing the contents before my body chose to expel it.  

Several unholy noises were the only things that escaped me.  The potion quickly took effect.  I felt the strange sensation of skin knitting back together take place not only on my back and shoulders, but on the scrapes located on my palms and knees.  When I figured it was all completed, I took a hand and reached over my shoulder to feel some of the spots.  There were still scabs and tender flesh, some of which would scar, but other than that everything was fine.   

With my stomach still faintly squirming from the healing potion, I grabbed my (surprise surprise) raggedy towel and clean clothes to head down to the alienage baths.  At first I was a little weirded out with the whole communal thing, but I got over it when my need to bathe was greater than the discomfort of undressing with fifteen other people around.  The trick was to not make any eye contact or conversation.  Get in, scrub-a-dub-dub, and get out.  No dipping under the water and springing back up with a hair flip, no doing sexy poses as I ran my dinky bar of gray soap over my body, no singing enchanting lullabies that would hypnotize countless men and women, and no starting water fights with the other female elves around as we giggled and shrieked.  The other women were kinda scary, anyways.  They all had rough lives, and their worn, weathered faces dared me to see what would happen if I tried them.  They had to put up with enough shems; they didn't need little Dalish pinpricks like me bothering them.  

"Oh, dear, what happened to your back?"

I turned to see who had spoken, eyes widening slightly when I saw who it was.

Arianni, the mother of Feynriel, waded next to me.  I must have looked somewhat stricken at the sight of her, because she smiled kindly and held up her hand in a small, timid wave.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you.  I just couldn't help but wonder what happened.  If that's alright with you, of course."

Wait.  It wasn't the other elves that gave off the warning vibe to stay away; it was  _me_ who did that.  I was the reason nobody approached me.  Oh, well, that's just  _dandy._

"I fell on some rocks trying to avoid getting impaled by a Tal-Vashoth's spear," I answered with a shrug, and sunk onto one of the benches.  That sounded more hardcore than it actually was, didn't it?  

Arianni's eyes widened, and she took a tentative seat next to me.  "Oh, my, that's...that's certainly dangerous."

My short huff of a laugh surprised her.  "I was actually just being really stupid.  Apparently, Tal-Vashoth don't like it when you throw rocks at them while they're trying to kill Garrett Hawke and his friends."

It was Arianni's turn to laugh, though hers was more out of shock.  "Well now you must tell me the whole story.  The other ladies and I are more than curious, now."  

I lifted my eyes to the bath around me to see the other elven women poorly trying to hide the fact that they were eavesdropping.  A few even cast glances in my direction.  "We're always gluttons for tales about Hawke and his companions.  They've done more for us than any guardsman or official in Kirkwall.  He...he helped my boy, you see.  My Feynriel is with Clan Sabrae, now, safe from the Circle and from the templars."  Disgruntled murmurings ran throughout the bath, proving that everybody was, in fact, listening.  

Without another word, Arianni gripped my shoulders and turned me so she could run some of her own shampoo through my hair and basically told me to start spilling.  The other women gathered closer, all tuning in attentively.  I left out the part of Anders' failed attempts at healing me, and ended it with me running back to get my pail of spindleweed.  That left them all laughing, for some reason.  By then my hair had been thoroughly cleaned and looking whiter than it had in a long time, and my back had been cleaned of any dried blood left over from my fall earlier.  

Arianni walked me back to my room.  "You've got good people watching out for you," she said.  "But not all shems are as kind as Hawke.  Be careful out there, especially with the work you do.  Being all alone in places like that leaves you open to any manner of evil coming your way, _shemlen_ or not."

I gave a nod at her mother-talk, letting her continue even though we had arrived at my door.  "And though you've got friends who would be there for you, remember, Alaran, that we elves have to stick together.  No matter what, you will always have the People."

Her kindness and concern shown for me made my heart do all sorts of jelly jumps.  When I hugged her, she hugged me back, motherly and warm.  I didn't realize how much I needed such a thing until I was embraced.  Two months, and I had been deprived of almost any physical contact with another person.  And seeing as I was such a physical contact type of girl, it killed a little part of me inside.  

"You are not alone,  _da'len."_

_-_

I was still in bed when there was a succession of loud, angry knocks on my door.  I jerked my head up, eyes refusing to fully focus, and sleepily called, "Who is it...?"

"...!"

"...?"

"...!"

Realizing I had fallen back asleep for a few moments, I lifted my head up once more and asked, "Sorry, who is it?"

"Anders!  Maker, Alaran!  I've been knocking on the door for five minutes!"

With a groan, I kicked off the blanket wrapped around my legs and detangled my body from the crooked position it was in.  I stumbled to the door and opened it, squinting at the light I was exposed to.

Anders sighed and put a hand over his eyes.  "I think it's my duty to inform you that you do not have any pants on whatsoever."

"Oh, don't get so bent.  Need I remind you that you've seen me naked?"

"Uh, no, no you do not."

I turned and beckoned him in, moving over to my dresser and pulling out a pair of leggings, shoving each leg through and jumping up and down a few times to get them on.  Anders was intensely studying my cracked and sagging roof, so I took the chance to put on a breast band and a clean tunic, where I rolled the sleeves under me to tuck away the frayed edges.  "What can I do you for, Anders?" I asked.

He met my gaze once more.  "You were the reason I got very little sleep last night."

"Thinking longingly about me, hm?  I can't say I'm that sorry about it," I smirked as I moved to the kitchen to cook some...ah.  I didn't have any food to cook.  Well, I didn't need it anyways.

"You only wish," Anders said back.  "But no.  I couldn't stop thinking about how in the world you were resistant to magic.  If you'd allow me to run a few tests, just to see..."

I was already shaking my head.  "No, Anders.  I don't have enough time in the day to stand around as you wave your hands over me in your dank, smelly clinic--"

"What did you say about my clinic?--"

"And I have a feeling that the results would be the same."  I stood over the wash basin and the single lemon I had resting next to it, squeezing some of the juice on a finger and rubbing it on and around my teeth.  They had toothbrushes here, but they were out of my price range, so I made do with the fruit I swiped from a crate by the docks.  To be fair, one of the dockworkers hauling the crates shoved me to the ground as I was searching, calling me all sorts of filthy and vile things as I was nearly trampled by the crowd.

Anders was visibly annoyed at my response.  "Just come over to the clinic for the day.  It'll be quick and painless, I promise!"

"Again.  No."

"Has it always been like this before you came here?  What can you remember?  What feeling did you experience when I--"

He was interrupted by yet another knock on my door.  "Come in," I said, "unless you're a templar!  Then don't!"

The knob turned and Fenris stepped in, that perpetual scowl blatant on his face.  I grimaced.  "Oh.  I'm not sure if you're a step up from a templar or not..."

"You missed training this morning," he said, folding his metal-clad arms, looking like he was about to drop the broodiest album of 9:31 Dragon.

"I overslept," I readily answered, sitting down in a chair and putting my footwraps on.  "The healing potion I took had more of an effect than I thought it would.  It won't happen again, and I'm sorry.  But I'm flattered you came all the way over here from your mansion in Hightown to see if I was still alive so you could glare at me."

His scowl deepened.  "Aw, I think he's actually  _hurt_ that you didn't show up," Anders cooed, batting his eyelashes and putting a hand over his heart.  "Because banging swords together is so utterly romantic."

"You should probably keep your mouth shut before you get one of those swords in your gut," I said back, then stood, combing my fingers through my hair before I placed my hat on.  "Now if you two gentlemen would excuse me, I have some...work to do."

"Collecting plants and selling them for cheap coin?" Fenris prompted sourly.  "Yes, that sounds extremely important.  From the way you were throwing rocks yesterday, it definitely seems that you don't need to have any more training with actual weapons."

"Oh, sorry I don't have any revenge to brew over or justice to enact," I snapped back, and slung my satchel on my shoulder.  I pointed a finger at Anders.  "You:  get over it, I'm not doing anything, some things are better left alone."  My finger moved to Fenris.  "You:  stop being so pinched up, it was only two hours, you berate every single thing I do anyways."  I walked past the two of them and headed out the door.  "Bye.  Try not to kill each other."

-

The day was exceptionally sweltering, but because I was so close to the ocean I was spared from the heat by the cool breeze carried over.  The embrium I was scavenging for wouldn't bode well in my satchel, though, due to the temperatures.

...Which meant that I was off to find other things.  I redirected my trek until I reached one of the caves that I had been meaning to go into for the longest time, and instead looked out for some deep mushroom.  There were a few nugs running around the place, giving me the heebeejeebees, but the cave was otherwise empty, save for the abundant glowing fungus.  

I set to work, humming as I repeatedly crouched and stuffed mushrooms in my satchel.  It looked like today was going to be short work.  To everybody else, that would be grand.  But I was dreading it.  I didn't want to go back to the alienage and be stuck in the suffocating heat.  Maybe I'd head down to one of the smoother beaches along the coastline?  It was a walk, but that didn't matter so much.  Too bad I didn't tan.  I mean, I didn't  _sunburn,_ which was good, but I stayed perpetually pale.  It was kind of annoying.  I  _knew_ I should have picked a darker skin color--

A figure blocked some of the sunlight pouring in from the cavern.  My hand moved to the hilt of my dagger, but before I could turn, a low, throaty, all-too familiar voice spoke:

"For somebody who calls me a dragon lady, you aren't the prettiest sight to be held, are you?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not actually know what Daryl Dixon's sweat in the seventeenth season of The Walking Dead would taste like.
> 
> I hope you all had a wonderful holiday. Please stay lovely.


	6. An Apple a Day Keeps Starvation Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al and Flemeth chat. Stuff happens after.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know who I am," Flemeth said as she stepped into the cave.  I immediately backtracked.  "The question is:  who are you?"

I remained silent, my brain going into overdrive to calculate all the possible ways of escape that I had.  "Come, now, don't be shy," she persuaded.

I couldn't pass up laughing at the accidental reference.  "And what, step into the light?"

"That would be lovely, actually.  All this darkness isn't good for the eyes.  Then I can see you better."

"Are you going to hurt me?" I asked nervously.   

Flemeth scoffed and rolled her yellow eyes.  "Why would I hurt you, child?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you  _are_ a dragon lady, you used to lead men to their deaths, you freaking burnt darkspawn to a crisp, you popped out of some sort of amulet, and if I remember reading correctly, you're actually Mythal.  Or a...piece of her...at...least."  

_Shit.  shit shit shit shit shiiiIIITTTTT._

She raised an eyebrow.  "And how would a simple elf like yourself know anything about that?"

But I had already gone into full Fandom Criticizing Mode.  The point of no return.  "And you know what I wanna know?" I continued, stepping forward once more and wildly pointing a finger at her.  "I wanna know how the hell did your hair go from gray to pure white?  What's up with your hairdo in general?   _Hair isn't supposed to stay up like that._ Were you already Mythal when you met the Hero of Ferelden?  Does Morrigan know?   _What is going on?_ Are you the reason I'm here?  Did you drag me into this?  I need answers, Flemeth!  Aaaahhh!"

Fandom Criticizing Mode evolved into Complete Meltdown Mode.  It escalated pretty quickly.

Something washed over me, but didn't render me with the inability to move.  Flemeth showed mild surprise.  "It seems I have just as many questions as you do," she spoke, idly waving her metal-clawed fingers in the air.  "But to answer your very first question:  no, I will not hurt you.  Why would I endanger or end the life of somebody who is wound so tightly in destiny that to hurt them would be to hurt the future of everyone in the world?"

I narrowed my eyes at her.  "Oh, no you don't.  I'm not being wound in anybody's destiny but my own."

Flemeth's smile was old and knowing.  "Continue to think that, child.  It will do you no harm, for the time being."

After a pause, I put the deep mushroom in my hand into the satchel and continued gathering.  "As soon as I'm finished, we can go to the beach and talk about things.  Does that sound good?"

"Yes.  I will assist you."

_Dis bitch was for real?_

"...Okay," I drawled.  "Just remember to--"

"Cut above the white part of the stem, yes.  I am, technically, an apostate who lived in the wilderness, girl.  I know what to do."

"Sorry," I muttered sarcastically.

So, uh, yeah.  The Witch of the Wilds helped me pick deep mushroom.  This was going down in my journal...oh, wait.  I didn't have a journal.  So sketchbook?  Sketchbook.

-

"Whoever brought you here, they certainly had something in store for you," Flemeth said as we sat on a nicer part of the Wounded Coast.  The Less-Wounded Coast.  She was even kind enough to use magic to cool down the sand so our butts wouldn't get burned.

"You know who it is, don't you?" I said back, then smiled at the piece of smoothed green glass I found after digging in the sand next to me.  Another gift for Sandal.  "Or at least an idea."

"Yes, but it is unimportant...for the moment, at least."

"And how long until that moment is over?"

"As long as it takes," Flemeth chuckled throatily.  "You, my dear Alaran, hide away a dangerous intellect."

"It's better right now to let people underestimate me," I said.  "Then, they'll never know just what I'm capable of."  I turned my head to look directly at Flemeth.  "How did you know that I was speaking about you?   _Dragon lady_ can have multiple implications, not all of them about you."

"Consider it a feeling."

"Ugh.  Does being cryptic come with being as old as balls?"

"Depending on which balls we are talking about, yes," Flemeth said back not a moment later.  I opened my mouth to give a very specific answer, but she moved to stand before I could.  The sun told me that we had been here for a good hour or so.  "But I must depart.  I imagine we will see each other, again, Alaran."

I had enough respect to stand, as well.  She could turn me into a newt, if she wanted.  And I doubt I would get better.  "Oh, joy," I sighed.  "I just can't wait for that moment."

_Smart Alaran, you are.  Just piss off an ancient elvhen god, why don't you?  I bet you could make that your specialty._

But Flemeth liked snark, for some reason.  I couldn't say I was ungrateful for that.  

She laughed.  "Oh, the very ground you will shake.  Yes, you were certainly chosen for a reason.  Whether that be good or bad, I cannot tell.  Then again, the person who I suspect sent you here has a tendency to do the unexpected."  Flemeth placed a hand on my cheek and gave me an almost motherly look.  "You have purpose.  Do not let it go to waste because you fear the unknown."

I only gave a nod as I let her words sink in.  Flemeth let her hand drop, gave me a farewell smile, and strode away.  As soon as she was a ways off, she morphed into a dragon.  Her beating wings as she took flight kicked up the sand.  I ducked my head down so the rim of my hat could protect me from the specks.  When I looked back up, she was already a fading figure in the sky.

The sand under my feet turned hot once more.  I hissed and quickly unwrapped my feet so I could stand in the ocean water.

Well...that happened.

-

"Hello, there, pretty," a slimy voice said from the shadows.  

I rolled my eyes and turned to see a few scrawny, filthy thugs emerge, dressed in worse rags than I.  "Go away, please," I said plainly.  "I'm really not in the mood for being pinned down and raped.  You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

My bluntness sent their planned reaction off-kilter.  "Just lookin' to have a little fun," said the other a bit sullenly.

"Seriously?  It's still daylight!  Look!  Look at the sun!  Do you see it?"  I pointed up to the yellow orb hanging low in the evening sky.  "Stop being stupid!  Stop taking advantage of women!  Go find a job!  Better yet, go take a bath!"

I adjusted my satchel and continued onward.  My soured mood was partially due to Flemeth's refusal to tell me who sent me here, and partially due to the spiders I was attacked by on my way back to Kirkwall.  I escaped, but lost both my dagger and most of the mushrooms I collected, as well as the green piece of glass for Sandal.  I brought what I could to Bodahn, but told him to be fair and give me what I deserved, which was two coppers.  I was going to buy a piece of jerky with the little money I had, but that was "confiscated" from me by two templars as I passed into Lowtown.  To make that even better, I realized that I had cut my foot on a rock while I was on the beach, so my whole journey back consisted of a sharp, stabbing pain on my heel.

That left them in silence as I walked away.  I was starving, my water skin had been empty for hours, and there looked to be a storm approaching.  The kind that just blew hot wind around, not the kind that sent refreshing rain to settle the dust.

I kept my head down, hat covering most of my face, watching as my feet--one bloody--carry me back to the alienage.  I ignored my growling stomach, the grainy taste in my mouth, and the blazing heat on my shoulders and back, and focused on the fact that there would be water awaiting for me in the well.  And my lute.  And hey, even my sketchbook.  The rats will be happy to see me, too.  They've been good pals, with that whole not chewing off my face thing.  

But my return was halted by templars swarming the gates.  My heart began thumping in my chest out of fear, even though I didn't possess any magic at all.  I worried for Merrill.  Was she out with Hawke?

I tapped on one templar's pauldron.  "Excuse me, but what's going on...?" 

My voice faded into silence as the templar turned.  Well, well, well, it was Ramen-Head himself.  Just my luck.

He immediately recognized me from underneath my hat and straightened his shoulders.  Man, he was really tall.  And he looked like he hadn't slept in a week.  Then again, I shouldn't be the one to judge; I was practically the elven version of Papyrus with skin.  "Knight-Commander Meredith sanctioned a search on the alienage in case any mages were hiding.  The official order is up there."  He pointed to a parchment nailed in the wall next to the gate.

"I can't read," I said flatly.

For some reason, Knight-Captain Cullen blushed.  That made me feel a bit better.  "Ah.  Well, seeing as you aren't a mage, you have nothing to worry about.  Go right on ahead to your home."

"And what about the mages?   _If_ there are even any," I continued to question.

"Then they'll be assigned to the Circle, and protected from innocents that they may potentially harm," he answered simply.

"And what about you?" I asked lowly, any regard for my well-being dissipating in a tiny little  _pfft._  Today I literally gave zero fucks."Who will protect me when the templars pose a threat to my safety?  Who will protect me when they take my money from my coin purse and leave me to starve?"

"The templars follow a code that--" Cullen started fervently.

"Bullshit."  My voice dropped to a whisper.  "It'll be a mage that saves me.  It'll be a mage that saves the city from the wrath of a certain Arishok and Knight-Commander.  But when Kirkwall is in ruins like it ultimately will be, I hope you can find it in yourself to let a mage save you."

I might as well have just said,  _Oh, look at me!  I know the future!  And knowing the future can be considered **maaaaagicaaaaaaal.**_

But Cullen was too confused by my statement to make the possible connection.  I shook my head and pushed past into the alienage.  The templars were already taking elves--many of them just children--but much to my relief Merrill wasn't among them.  

When I came to my opened door, though, my heart dropped.  

Cautiously, I stepped in.  My blanket and pillow were strewn from my mattress, my dresser drawers were ajar with unfolded clothes stuffed back in them, and my...my...

My lute.

"No," I choked, and covered my mouth as tears welled in my eyes.  

It lay on the floor, its neck broken, as if somebody had taken it over their knee and snapped it.  Life, memory,  _soul..._ gone.

I took off my hat and dropped it on my bed, a sob racking up my chest.  My feet shuffled over to the remnants of my instrument and I fell to my knees, fingers hovering over the strings and the wood.   _"No."_ It was a whimper, an actual cry this time.

My body folded in on itself.  I pressed my palms to my eyes to stem the flow of tears, my sobs only amplifying the ache in my belly.  I wanted to be angry, to go out there and get revenge, to yell and explain to them  _just how much my lute meant to me._ To ask them if they've ever had to go without food for a night because they wanted to buy an instrument so badly.  To ask them if music ever kept them from the depths of despair.  

But all I could do was sit and weep.  Oh, I  _detested_ crying, but just because I did, it didn't mean I could stop it.  I was usually quite strong in molding and containing my emotions, but this time I couldn't.  I was too weak both emotionally and physically to do so.

I wasn't sure how long I cried before I felt a hand on my back.  It made me jump and hiccup.  I whirled my head around, preparing to shout at whoever it was that thought they could comfort me.  

Cullen's eyes, though, were so apologetic and sincere that I couldn't bring myself to do it.  "I'm so sorry," he said, giving my back an awkward but comforting pat, his bulky gauntlets making it hard to be soft.  "I swear to the Maker, I will find the men who did this and..."

"And what?"  My voice was annoyingly thick and stuffy.  "Fire them?  You'd be the laughing stock of the Order, releasing most likely perfectly good soldiers for breaking some elf's lute."  I wiped away the wetness on my cheeks as best I could and sat up.  My bony knees were driving into the wood, already sore.  "Thank you for the sentiment, Cullen, but..." I swallowed to clear my throat.  "I'll live.  A broken instrument won't mean the end of me."  I was already throwing my veneer up, protecting Cullen from the rawness of my emotions.  

I picked up the wooden remains and stood.  Cullen followed, his metal armor clanking as he did so.  "Just chuck it for me, will you?  I kind of don't want to stare at it any longer than I have to," I said, aiding him in feeling a bit useful.  

Cullen nodded and took it from me.  I managed a small smile for the sake of the templar, even if it didn't quite reach my violet eyes.  "Thank you.  Not all templars are as bad as I thought, it seems."

He blushed.  Again.  "Y-you're welcome," Cullen stammered.  

An idea, slow-forming and reluctant to manifest itself, still appeared in my head.   _You really shouldn't.  You should wallow in your misery and cultivate your bitterness towards all of humanity because of your terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day._

_Everybody has bad days.  It doesn't mean that I have an excuse to refuse kindness to others._

I held up a finger for him to wait, and moved over to a cabinet.  "I was saving this for some moment," I said, and reached up to grab a small pouch, silently glad that the templars hadn't decided to take it.  "It's some dried prophet's laurel.  Should help you sleep."  I moved and put it in the side of his belt, since his hands were full with my broken lute.

"Oh--no, I-I couldn't possibly--"

"I sleep just fine," I said firmly, even if it wasn't entirely the truth.  The swelling of my eyes had gone down substantially, by now.  "You, on the other hand...it's the lyrium, isn't it?  You don't have to answer.  Just...know that I'm sorry, as well.  For the things that you have to endure."

 Cullen was silent for a few seconds, processing what he had just heard.  Then he held his head up a tiny bit higher, yet also more humbly, and said, "Thank you."

-

Fenris noticed my weak state.  Well,  _weaker_ state.  He always thought I was weak.

"What is wrong."

"Nothing at all," I grunted, then swung my greatsword once more.  He easily parried it and sent me stumbling back.  That set off a wave of dizziness and splotches of black dots that danced in my eyes.  

I blinked furiously several times, but found that I didn't have enough strength to raise my weapon against Fenris' oncoming one.  

He didn't even stop, the dillhole, only turned his blade to the flat side and slapped me across the arm with it.  I tried staying on my feet, but the force of the hit was too great to entirely withstand.  

_Ope.  I was going._

My vision clouded with darkness and I felt myself fading away from reality, expecting to hit the stone floor.  Instead, there was a clang as a sword dropped.  I felt my body being quickly gripped by Fenris' hands and arms.   _"Fasta vass,"_ he cursed angrily.  "You're lighter than a feather."

"Thank you," I said with a strained half-smirk.  "I try."

He made a disgusted noise and lowered me to the ground.  "I imagine--"

"Hold on," I breathed, then turned my head to retch.  Nothing came up, probably from the fact that I had thrown up basically anything in my stomach right outside Fenris' door.  It was only a bit of water, so that was okay.  

As soon as I was finished, I avoided his gaze and tried crawling to my feet.  "I think I'm just gonna go home, mmkay?"

"You think I don't know what starvation looks like?" Fenris asked dryly, keeping me in place.  "I was a slave in Tevinter; I've seen countless suffer in the exact way you are."

"No, no, I think I just have, uh, a fly stuck in my throat."

"A fly?"

"I haven't eaten in three days, Fenris.  I'm not in the best state-of-mind...ah, dammit."

He snorted under his Bangs of Brood.  "I may not be the nicest person, but I'm not cruel."  In one motion Fenris had me cradled in his arms, carrying me up the stairs.  "Why haven't you eaten?"

"Uh, if you haven't noticed, I'm not in the  _best_ line of work to constantly provide meals for myself."

"Then find a different job."

"Yes, because there are  _so many_ for elves here in lovely Kirkwall.  You know what?  I'm not arguing with you.  Not when I'm _dying."_  I let myself hang limply, my head thrown back.  

I was surprised that Fenris didn't drop me.  "I am sure it would take much more to kill you," he instead spoke.

One of my eyes cracked open.  "Was that a  _compliment?_ Say it isn't so!"

I was seriously looking to get dropped.  

But Fenris only plopped me down in a chair at the kitchen table and began cutting up an apple on a plate.  He added a slice of buttered bread, then handed it over to me.  "Eat it slowly," he commanded.

"Of course," I said, and picked up an apple slice.  Fenris sat on the opposite side of the table as I nibbled on the food.  

Silence ensued, save for the tiny  _crunch_ of apple when I bit into it.  I knew Fenris had questions, though; his whole countenance was basically begging for answers as to why I hadn't eaten.

"Spiders," I eventually muttered.

"What?"

"Spiders.  I was attacked by spiders the other day, lost almost my complete supply of deep mushroom, and had to run for my life for a good while.  Oh, and I also lost my dagger.  At some point prior I cut my foot on something..."  I made a few noises as I lifted the injured foot up to show Fenris the scabbed over gash, wiggling my toes as I did so.  "So that made it kind of hard to run.  I got a couple of coppers for what I had, though, except they were taken from me by a templar who thought it was his duty to give me a very handsy pat-down.  I would have gone back out the next day, but that nasty storm rolled in, making it impossible for me to go out.  I know you think I'm stupid, but I'm not stupid enough to venture into thirty mile per hour wind on the coast.  My hat could have blown away."  I shrugged and began picking at the bread.  "I was going to go out after training today--"

"And you would have passed out on the side of the road and eaten by vultures," Fenris finished.  

I made a face.  "Really?  Eaten by vultures?  I'll have you know that vultures are quite friendly birds with an interesting digestive microbiome that allows them to eat rotting meat.  Did you  _know_ that--"

"No, nor do I want to."

"Why do you have to be so sour, Fenris?" I frowned.

"I have every right to be  _sour,"_ he said, his own frown turning into a sneer.

"No.  No, you don't," I responded, waving an apple slice in his direction.  "You're not a slave.  How great is that?"

"I'm living in my former master's mansion, who will come for me at any--"

"I'm living in an  _alienage,_ poor and destitute, and I pick  _plants_ for a living.  I'm having to be fed apples and bread like a child by an eighty-year-old man in a twenty-year-old body.  I have  _two_ shirts--"

"I have lyrium markings burned into my skin.  I'm a known fugitive, hunted by slavers, I have no memory of my past, I have to work with two dangerous mages--"

"I was abused by my father.  I can't read--"

"Neither can I."

_I was dying of cancer and for all I know I still possibly could be.  I was transported to a different world where magic exists and I'm an elf.  Try to top that one, huh?_

Instead I paused for a few moments, then broke down into stifled laughter.  "We're really trying to out-do each other on how worse our life is," I said between breaths.  

Fenris couldn't help but crack a smile.  "And we're quite exceptional at it, too."

I started on another apple slice.  "Actually, I like my life.  It's not as easy as a lot would want, but...I like it, you know?  I certainly don't want to stay in it, but...things could be worse.  I think that applies to you, too."  

"...Perhaps."

"Perhaps."

-

Apples.  Fenris sent me so many, I couldn't fit them all in my cold box.  Also two loaves of bread.  I honestly wasn't sure if he had any other kind of food in the kitchen.  Of course, when he gave it to me it was done with harshness and a sneer, but given nonetheless.  I was pretty thankful for that.  For him.

Hm.  I wouldn't be able to finish all the fruit before they went bad.  

Maybe I'd dry them.

The knock on my door nearly made me chuck my open sketchbook under the bed in panic.  I would die before I let anybody know that I spent an hour and a half drawing an...apple.  

But I was cool as a cucumber, and instead closed the book and moved to put it in the mattress itself, along with the accompanying items.  I had made a slit with the knife I used to have and tucked it there, where it could be away from any prying eyes.  I was fortunate to have done so; the only reason the templars never got to it was because of my artist's paranoia.  

I walked to the door and opened it, a smile spreading across my face when I saw Hawke, Varric, Aveline, and Carver standing on the other side.  "Hey, guys," I said, feeling my eyes crinkle with the meaning of my smile.  

"Hello, Alaran," Hawke beamed.  "What're you doing on this fine evening?"

"Well, I was probably going to go--"

"Wrong!" he interrupted loudly.   _"You_ are coming with us to the Hanged Man!"

"We were missing our favorite memory-wiped, white-haired elf!" Varric proclaimed, spreading his arms out wide.

My eyebrow inclined.  "So...Fenris?"

"Ha, ha.  Come on, Al!  Live a little!  You used to be fun."

"That's what we all were," I said, a faraway look growing in my eyes.  "Until 'Nam."

"What?"

"...Yeah.  Yeah, I'll go.  Let me get my boots on, first; I don't want to get some kind of disease just from walking on the floor.  My feet aren't as tough as Merrill's or Fenris' are."

"I doubt that," Aveline scoffed.  "I've heard about the way you scour over rocks."

"Aveline," I gasped, "you stalker."

She bristled.  "No.  I'm not--no--I would never stalk--"

"Ayy, I'm just joking," I said, pointing a finger at her and giving an open-mouth grin.  Aveline rolled her eyes.  "I'll be a moment, hold on."

As I put socks and boots on, I digested the piece of information I had just received.

Aveline had people watching me.  Watching me while I worked.  Whether to ensure that I was safe or to see if I was up to anything nefarious, I didn't know.  

What I  _did_ know was that somebody was probably watching me when I was  _attacked by spiders._ And they didn't freaking do anything.

When I turned back to the group, my eyes narrowed to slits as I locked gaze with the Captain of the Guard.  She furrowed her eyebrows and crossed her arms, splaying a hand in confusion.  

"Were people following me Tuesday afternoon?" I asked flatly.  If they were, they could have seen me with Flemeth.  I doubted they saw her turn into a dragon; I would have been approached the second after, if that were the case.  But if she read reports that an old lady with gravity-defying hair and a ridiculous metal outfit with a cape was seen with me, there'd be questions.  Lots of questions.  I had to be sure that I wasn't headed into some kind of trap where I was interrogated by not only her, but Hawke and others, as well.  I sincerely hoped that wasn't the case.

Her strong jaw set.  "That information is--"

"Again."  I stood up straighter, chin tilting upwards a fraction.  "Were people following me Tuesday afternoon?  You've already given up the information that there are eyes trailing me.  However constant, I don't know.  So I guess I have two questions: was I being followed Tuesday afternoon, and why am I followed at all?"

The once-excited and light feeling that encompassed our little group vanished.  Aveline and I stared each other down, the both of us too strong-willed to show meekness now.

But, surprisingly and much to my relief, she sighed and uncrossed her arms.  "No, there was nobody following you Tuesday.  You...didn't depart as early as you typically do, so it was assumed that you wouldn't be leaving your house."

"Oh, Aveline," Hawke sighed, rubbing his brow and looking at the ground as he processed what he was hearing, his reaction telling me that he didn't have anything to do with it.  It also revealed a man who was already feeling the weight of the burden he was beginning to take upon his shoulders.  I couldn't even console myself and say that it would lessen, soon.  

She went on.  "And you were followed because, if you don't remember correctly, Alaran, you dropped in the street seemingly out of nowhere.  For all we know, you could have dropped out of the Fade.  Despite later confirmation that you weren't a spirit or a mage, there were still questions among both the Guard and the Templars.  Some, in both, wanted to take you in for questioning.  I managed to persuade them that the best way to see what you were like was to observe your daily routine, particularly when you weren't in public eye.  It has been growing less frequent, now that most are affirmed that you're harmless, albeit odd."

Varric snorted softly and shook his head.  

I didn't budge, my mind still piecing things together.  "You didn't want me working next to you because you weren't sure what my true nature was, yet.  And the other guards weren't irritated by my presence; they were scared of it."

Aveline's jaw finally unlocked.  Her green eyes softened when she said, "Yes.  I'm sorry, Alaran."

I gave a single nod.  "Okay.  Thank you for telling me, Aveline."

She blinked.  "I...what?"

My stance relaxed and I smirked.  "I guess your men and/or women missed seeing how easy of a forgiver I am."  In the snap of a moment my face was a mask of steel, violet eyes piercing into Aveline, into all of them.  "But don't for one second believe that I am weak or naive; otherwise you'll regret it."  

Then it was back to normal.  I hooked arms with Carver just to make him sputter and blush and drug him along, talking about how many apples I had.

Not knowing what else to do, the three others followed, off to the Hanged Man.  

I should have remembered that nothing good happens there.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flllleeeemmmmeetthhh
> 
> Cuuulllllllleeennnnnnnnn
> 
> Feeeeennnnnnnnrrrrriiisss
> 
> Avvvvvveeellllliiiiiinnnneee
> 
> Follow me on Tuuuuuuummmmmmbbbbbbbllllllrrrrr aaattttt www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief
> 
> Sttaaayyy llllloooovvvveeeelllllllllyyyyyyy


	7. Slit Throats Means You're Important

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al overcomes stuff and ends up being cooler. Obviously.

There were twelve factors that led up to where I was now.  

That is, lying on the ground outside of the tavern with a beaten, bloody face, probably a broken wrist, and a slit throat.

First, I was taken to the Hanged Man.  

Second, I was immediately thrown next to Isabela, who attracted all sorts of seedy company just by breathing.

Third, Hawke punched a man who tried to make a grab at me.

Fourth, Fenris punched another man who was trying to back up his friend who had been punched by Hawke.  

Fifth, Carver spilled his ale on me as he was trying to be smooth.

Sixth, my claustrophobia got the best of me, since I hadn't been in this big of a crowd in more than a month.  

Seventh, I stepped outside unnoticed to get a breath of fresh air and clear the stench of ale on my shirt.

The two men that had gotten their butts handed to them by my friends were waiting.  You'd _think_  I would have encountered all the nasty people by now, but you'd be wrong.  

I sighed and slumped my shoulders.  "You're planning on doing something bad, aren't you?  Probably to Hawke or Fenris, but I'll do, huh," I asked wearily, my stance shifting into a defensive position.  "I knew I should have asked somebody to come out with me.  Sorry, my bar etiquette isn't all that great; I was usually too busy to sneak into one with my friends.  Well, first I would have _needed_ friends who sneaked into bars."

Eighth, the band inside the Hanged Man had started up a song, blocking out any noises from the outside.

Ninth, my hand-to-hand combat was mediocre, just like Fenris said.

Tenth, these guys weren't half-starved scum.  They overpowered me with their strength alone.

Eleventh, out of sheer luck I managed to rip one of their daggers from them and stab into their chest repeatedly.  Before I could get to the other, though, he slit my throat.

Twelfth, I spun around and surprised my killer by thrusting the dagger into his neck, ending his life, too.

I watched as my blood soaked into the dirt, looking black more than red.   _So this is it.  This is how I go._

My breathing was steady and even, amusingly, and not at all panicked.  I had come to terms with my death long ago.  And death was...death.  Still the same, just happened different ways.  And besides, I had a good time.  I got to meet  _Garrett Hawke,_ after all, and live in the world of Thedas.  How amazing was that?  I wished I could have...

Wait a second.

I was still breathing.

Wasn't a slit throat suppose to, you know,  _make me not be able to breathe?_ Or at least make me choke on my own blood?  I wasn't much of an expert on what a cut throat was supposed to do to me, but I was pretty sure I should feel imminent death approaching.

A hand pressed itself to my throat, feeling the severity of the wound.  I nearly burst out laughing after a few moments, had it not been for the fact that I was still bleeding profusely.  Not only from my neck, but from the open wounds on my face, too.  Oh, and then there was my wrist, which  _hurt like a bitch._

It was a good thing that the door to the Hanged Man had to be pushed to go in.  Any extra effort probably would have finished me right then and there.  

The tavern fell silent in a matter of moments as soon as I stepped inside.  Turns out an elf covered in blood kind of kills the mood.  

"A...a little help?"

-

"Well, it'll scar, most likely," Anders muttered to me as the two of us and the rest of Hawke's friends all gathered in his dingy clinic.  "But everything else will heal just fine.  Head wounds tend to bleed a lot, that's all.  And you need to refrain from using your wrist, though I doubt you'll actually heed my words."  He finished bandaging my neck.

"I'll make sure to put it on the record that you killed those men in self-defense," Aveline assured.

"They weren't just men," Varric corrected.  "They were mercenaries, staying in the Hanged Man until their next job."

"Then they must not have been very good mercenaries," Fenris said lowly, eyes fixed on the injury slicing across my throat.  "Her skills are nowhere near theirs, no matter how poor their fighting techniques are."

They all went about discussing how I could have possibly gotten away as if I wasn't even there.  So I finally stood before my irritation could turn into anger and began walking out.  "And where do you think you're going?" Isabela asked.  The attention was turned back on me.

"Home."

"Alone?  Your foolishness knows no bounds, it seems," Fenris said bitingly.  

I spun on all of them, my temper snapping in an instant.  "I know this is something you guys deal with on an hourly basis, but for people like  _me--_ " I jabbed my thumb against my chest.  "It doesn't.  Did any of you even consider if I've ever even  _killed_ somebody prior to now?  Do any of you even  _care?"_ I directed my gaze at Fenris.  "I know for a fact you don't.  All you care about are your own feelings.  But could just this  _once_ keep it to yourself?  And to the rest of you: I don't appreciate the thought that I can't take care of myself.  I've been doing it for longer than I can remember, and though I'm okay with you being surprised, the fact that you're all in utter disbelief pisses me off.  Because if you think I'm so completely helpless, I want to ask the question: where were any of  _you_ when I was attacked?"   _Yeah, throw the unnecessary guilt on all of them.  That'll make me feel better, right?  Probably not._ "Since  _none_ of you were there, you have no right to judge or wonder how it was I fought.  I made it out.   _On my own._ Just like it's always been."

With everybody standing there in shamed silence, I turned on my heels and walked out of the clinic, sticking close to the light until I reached the lift.  Before I could get the pulley to crank me up to the surface, I was stopped by the younger Hawke.

"Wait," he breathed, and stepped on before I could tell him to piss off.  

I put all my energy into the glare projected at him.  "What."

"I-I just...wanted to accompany you back to the alienage."

"Why."  I started the pulley, the  _crank crank crank_ sounds of the lift warning that it was in desperate need of maintenance.

Carver was struggling to not become bristled.  "Because," he replied evenly, "I care about your well-being, and...I saw you go out of the Hanged Man, but was too embarrassed to confront you since I spilled ale all over your front.  I'm...sorry.  I should have been there."  His blue eyes were true and sorrowful.

The anger I was holding onto dissipated, leaving me feeling tired and remorseful.  "No, I'm sorry, Carver.  Yelling at you guys back there...it was wrong of me.  Anger isn't really my strong suit and...and when I do get it, I never know how to handle it all that well.  But I shouldn't be making excuses."  My fingers lightly touched the bandages around my neck.  "Maybe I should go back and apologize to them all--"  

I reached to turn the pulley back so it would descend, but Carver gently grabbed my wrist, mindful of its tenderness from the recent healing poultice applied to it.  "No.  They need to let how they acted sink in.  And besides," he said, giving a small smile, "I doubt they want to look you in the eye, with how angry you were.  Like a storm, you were."

I raised an eyebrow, lips curving upward.  "Oh?  A storm?  I've been compared to a lot of things, but never that."

Carver awkwardly shrugged.  "I-it was...Maker, would you know that off?" he finally breathed exasperatedly.  I snickered, but it faded when I remembered everything that had happened.

So I met his gaze once more.  "Thank you for coming with me."

"You're welcome."

-

"Your friends, they don't believe in you," my mother said to me as I sat on one of the docks, my feet dipping below the black water.  "Are they even really your friends?"  She crouched next to me, bringing her mouth close to my pointed ear.  "You are a  _lie,_ a  _fake._ Why do you deserve anything better than that?"  

"Because I am of value," I said, but it was barely a sentence at all.

My mother scoffed.  "You?  Of  _value?_ Sweetie, look around.  You are  _nothing,_ here.  Your "friends" see you as little more than a thorn in their side, a minor character that they feel obligated to acknowledge out of sheer pity."

"No.  They...they care about me."

Her tinkling laugh brought back years of remembering her scorn.  "Do they, now?  And I imagine you say that because of dear Carver, hm?  Alaran, he only did that because he wanted to look like the hero, to you and to Hawke.  When he took you home, he expected a reward.   _You."_

"That's not true.

"Yes--"

"No it's not!" I roared, and grabbed the demon by its neck.  We tumbled into the pitch black water, consumed by darkness that knew no light.  My breath was taken from me, and in my struggle to swim back to the surface I lost my grip on the demon.  

_You're all alone.  Nobody is going to rescue you.  You will be here forever and nobody will even know, you worthless, useless, unimportant--_

A soft orb of emerald green light floated my way, bobbing up and down as it neared.  Without thinking, I grabbed for it with both hands, clutching it against my chest.

I didn't remain in the same position for long, however.  The ball of light had a will of its own and yanked me upwards, towards a light I thought I would never see, again.

 ** _You are important,_** I thought I heard it speak before my head broke the surface of the water.  I gasped for air...

...And opened my eyes.

"Just a dream," I said to myself as I curled up, trembling knees tucking under my chin.  "Just a dream."

My wrist still ached, and the cut on my neck itched annoyingly to signify that it was healing.  The light creeping into my tiny window told me that it was extremely early in the morning.  I still heard my "mother's" voice echoing in my ears.  I hadn't thought about that she-devil since my arrival here.  Her or my father, in fact.  Gross.

I rolled out of bed, toes curling and a shiver running up my spine as my calloused and scarred feet touched the floor.  I sleepily rubbed my eyes and shuffled to the small kitchen counter, where I tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it in my mouth.  

_Annabelle, sweetie, you shouldn't be eating that many carbs.  You have your weight to watch, after all, and there is no such thing as a chubby equestrian rider.  How about you have a handful of blueberries, instead?  Sofia just got them fresh from the market!  Oh, and do something with your hair, please.  Nobody likes seeing frizzy curls at any time of the day--_

"Stop," I whispered to myself and the voice in my head, and abruptly stood to freshen my mouth with a lemon.  Then I headed to the baths; it should be empty, or at least fairly so.  I wasn't fond of explaining the state of my appearance to any concerned, elderly elves.  

The water was anything but warm as I lowered myself into it.  My mind briefly flashed back to my dream with the pitch-black water and the feeling of being unable to escape the darkness, but after a blink I banished it.  

Shivering, I wiped away the flecks and smears of blood still faintly caked onto my pale skin as best I could.  Without a mirror or anybody to assist me, it was difficult to tell whether or not I had gotten it all off.  

 _"I don't like walking around this old and empty house,"_ I sang absently as I washed, singing the next verse then skipping to the chorus. _"So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear..._ _Don't listen to a word I say, the screams all sound the same.  Though the truth may vary, this ship'll carry our bodies safe to shore."_

In any storybook situation, there should have been somebody listening to me, somebody who paused and waited in silence until I finished to tell me that I was an excellent singer.  Then I would spin around, surprised and slightly annoyed that they had done such a thing.  They would say that it was a song they had never heard, before.  I would lie and say that it was a song I had come up with on my own.  A conversation would ensue.

But there was nobody.  As usual.  

My mouth straightened into a thin line and my singing ceased.  I had finished bathing, anyways.

-

There was an immediate face-palm when I opened the door and saw Hawke standing on the other side with a bouquet of wilted flowers.  Behind him was the whole group, looking guilty with their shifting feet and and slouching positions.

"Alaran, we're--" Hawke began, but I cut him off when I threw my arms around him.  I wanted to cry out in joy--or just cry, basically--but I held it back, and instead allowed myself a beaming grin as I was hugged in return.  "We're sorry," he finished with a chuckle.

I straightened my expression somewhat and released so I could look at him and the others.  "I know," I said.  "I am, too."

Hawke held the flowers out for me to take.   _Snapshot_.  "I...took them from the viscount's gardens, but one of the guards saw me, so I had to run.  By the time I got into the clear, they were..."  He gestured to their sad state.

The thought of Garrett Hawke running from guards with a fistful of flowers made me laugh.  "Thank you," I said sincerely.  "I'm happy you guys are here."

"We thought you would be angry," Merrill confessed, green eyes filled with emotion.  "I know how it feels, to be considered weak.  I should have stood up for you."

"Really, it's okay," I assured.  "I'm just...me.  It's expected."

"No, it's not," Aveline said back, taking a step forward.  "I know how you fight, Alaran.  No matter what Fenris says..." she shot the former slave a glare.  He refused to look at either of us directly.  "You have talent, with or without a blade."

"Come on, get to the good part," Varric said.  "The part I know Al will get a kick out of."

"Right!" Hawke clapped, then showed a dashing grin.  "Since we know how hard you work each day just to get by, we thought that--to fully atone of our transgressions--we'd help you gather plants...or whatever it is you gather...today!"

"Are you sure?" I questioned dubiously, trying to suppress the joy flaring inside my chest.  "It's going to be really hot."

"When is it not hot?" Anders questioned back.  I looked at his garb, then at what everybody else was wearing.  Isabela and Merrill looked to be the only ones who were dressed appropriately for Kirkwall temperature.

"You're all going to need to get changed," I said slowly but with a smirk.  "Heat stroke always ruins a perfectly nice outing."

An hour later I had Hawke's flowers in a vase I scrounged up from my little collection of odds and ends (I was turning into the elven version of WALL-E), a few apples in my satchel and my empty pail, a full water skein, and a group of people--with pails of their own--who considered me a friend.

Who considered me valuable.

-

"Can I just stay up here?" Varric asked as we descended a trail on the Wounded Coast.  "Water and dwarves don't really...mix well."  He had removed his usual duster and gloves, and was parading around a tunic with cut-off sleeves, the gun-show exhibition in full-swing.  I couldn't help but sneak a few glances.  Isabela, on the other hand, was downright drooling.

"They sink like a rock," Hawke laughed from his position ahead.  He had foregone his own armor and was wearing a vest and trousers, but still adorned his arm bracers.  

"It isn't a pretty sight, believe me," Isabela added.  

I still held up my pail.  "Black lotus isn't going to pick itself, Varric.  And just a second ago you were bragging that you had the keenest eyesight out of all of us."

"I exaggerate, everybody knows that."

"Black lotus.  Pick it."

He sighed loudly.  "Fine, fine."

"You do this?  Every day?" Anders asked as he wiped his sweaty brow.  "Maker's ass, how do you not burn up?"

I shrugged.  "Honestly, I don't know."  That right there was the truth.

Anders made a complaining noise and trudged down the path.  He left his feathery...jacket?...in Kirkwall, and wore a plain, sheer shirt, looking like he was straight out of a romance novel.  The tunic was billowing in the breeze and everything.

"Don't mind Blondie, Al," Varric said as we reached the shore.  "He doesn't get out of the Undercity all that often, if you couldn't tell from the way he's already burning."

"Fereldans," Isabela sighed.  "You lot have skin touchier than a nug's.  I mean, look at poor Carver!"

The younger Hawke turned his head long enough to scowl at us.  In that time we got a good look at his reddened nose and cheeks.  I grimaced; it hadn't even crossed my mind that the others might not fare so well underneath the sun.  And we hadn't even begun gathering black lotus, either.

"Give us a break," Aveline said, her shoulders and the tips of her ears pink.  "Tanning just doesn't come naturally."

"It's alright, Aveline," Merrill said, eyes on the lookout for the plants.  "Your freckles are quite cute."

"I don't think the Captain of the Guard wants to be called 'cute,' Daisy," Varric chuckled.  

We made our way down to the shoreline, the only person silent being Fenris.  It wasn't surprising.  He was a pot of brood, for some reason.  Maybe it had something to do with me, but I couldn't be positive.  What  _was_ surprising was that the elf actually had another set of clothes besides his prickly armor.  Normal clothes.  I had always figured he thought dressing like any other person was too mainstream.  As a result, I saw more of his lyrium tattoos, and worried that the sun would irritate them.  If they did, though, Fenris showed no signs of it.  If I asked him if he was alright, he would probably bite my head off with some barbed remark.  So I left him alone, just grateful that he had opted to come along.

"You know, I've done a lot of things," Hawke said as he stopped by some black lotus to pick it, "but never really this."  He reached down and started yanking it up.  I jogged over to his burly side and showed him how to properly remove the plant from the ground.  The thing that the game never portrayed well was just how  _big_ Hawke was.  Even as a mage, he had a body like an old-school lumberjack.  And though he wasn't the tallest, he made up for it in sheer bulk.  "Ahhh.  Thanks, Alaran."  His hazel eyes, which were more gold today than yesterday, flickered to my throat.  Before he could open his mouth to say something, though, I stopped him.

"Hawke, don't.  It's alright," I said with my small smile. "It'll make for an interesting conversation starter.  And what can I say?  My looks are becoming more and more  _cutthroat,_ indeed."

He groaned a laugh.  "Oh, good one.  Your jokes always seem to  _slice_ through any tension."

A few feet away Carver groaned and distanced himself.  Everybody had left their shoes up by the trail and rolled up their pants.  Those who _were_ wearing pants, anyways.  Varric had already ditched his pail and shirt by the water and was suntanning on a rock, arms laced behind him and eyes closed.  Anders was arguing with Merrill on the right uses for black lotus, Isabela was sneaking up on Aveline, planning on dumping her pailful of ocean water while the captain dutifully gathered her own portion.  Carver was cursing in pain and furiously trying to shake off the little crayfish latched onto his finger.  

And Fenris was...

Nowhere to be seen.  Of course.

"You should go find him," Hawke said when he noticed my eyes scouring over the rocky coastline.  "He's particularly been hard on himself with what happened."

"Where'd he go?"

Hawke pointed over to a cropping of rocks.  I adjusted my hat and started the trek, following the pair of footprints until I had rounded the corner and vanished from the sight of everybody else.

I saw Fenris easily.  He was sitting against one of the black rocks, an arm propped up on a bent knee.  

Wordlessly, I walked over and sat down beside him, slipping off my hat and setting it in the sand.  "You should leave me be, Alaran," he said, but it was tiredly and without vitriol.  

"I should do a lot of things.  Leaving you alone to get attacked by a dragon or something is not one of them," I responded.

He snorted.  "Because so many dragons enjoy the beach, yes."

_Flemeth did._

"So what's on your mind?" I asked, mindful of a little spider in the sand and redirecting it away from my body.  

Fenris was slow to answer.  And when he did, it didn't really address anything.  "I have much on my mind.  That is not unusual, nor important."

"Well it's important to me, so spill," I said bluntly.  

I felt him glower at me, but I was too focused on creating a little path in the sand for my new spider friend with a finger.  "You were foolish--"

"No, Fenris.  Tell me the truth.  Don't hide behind insults."  I looked up and met his gaze.  "Please."

He visibly chewed on his thoughts before speaking them out loud.  Fenris broke eye contact before he replied and looked to the Waking Sea.  "It was I who was foolish.  I let you go outside alone, knowing that you had no weapon of any type on you from your mention of it earlier that day.  I had a bad feeling about those sorry bastards the moment they staggered up from the floor, yet did nothing."  The look of self-hatred on his face was somewhat astonishing, aging him several years.  

The demeanor shifted instantaneously when I took my hand in his.  It wasn't a romantic intertwining; just a simple clasp.  A gesture of comfort, sympathy, and forgiveness.  "It will be okay.  I promise," I softly spoke.  "I'm alive, and I plan on being alive for a long while, too."  

"But what if--"

"Shush.  What if's are for babies.  You're not a baby, are you, Fenris?  A whiny loser baby?"  I then gasped, let go of his hand, and scrambled to my feet.  "You're a whiny loser baby!"

"I am  _not_ a whiny loser baby," Fenris snarled, getting to his feet as well.  There was a glint in his eye that told me he was better, however stoic he continued to remain.  

But I wasn't letting that go.  "HAWKE!!" I screamed as I took off sprinting, which took a lot of energy and motivation because  _running in the sand is hard._ "FENRIS IS A WHINY LOSER BABY!"

-

The impromptu dinner at my place was moved outside into the alienage courtyard.  Merrill brought over her own silverware and dishes so there would be enough for us to eat with.  Due to all the money I received from the pails of black lotus, I was able to feed everybody.  But not only was I able to do  _that,_ I was able to properly feed them freshly cooked vegetables and ram meat.  Yes, I knew it was the only thing I could cook here and it was basically stir fry without any rice or noodles, but I kind of wanted a real kitchen before I tried anything too grand.  And besides, I had  _good_ vegetables, not the old ones sold for cheap prices.  And I even got some mother ducking watermelon that we were going to chop open after we finished eating.

I was leaning against the outside wall next to my door, scraping up the last of the contents in my bowl, listening and laughing to one of Varric's stories.  "I shit you not!  So I go, 'Bartrand, you've got it all wrong.  That  _wasn't_ mother's...'"  He trailed off as his eyes moved to the alienage entrance.  "I think I may have had a heat stroke after all," Varric chuckled, breaking away from his narrative and gesturing to the armored figure warily striding in.  "Because I know for a  _fact_ that I'm really not seeing Knight-Captain Cullen walking in here right now."

It was hard for me to believe, either.  And he was walking  _alone._ Over here, to all of us.

Hawke stood.  "Cullen," he beamed.  "What brings you here?  Something my friends and I can do for you?"

Cullen consciously cleared his throat and gave a slow shake of his head.  "No, actually.  I, uh, I've come for Alaran."  His eyes met mine, and he gave a brief, curt bow.  That allowed me to see something strapped to his back, wrapped in a cloth.  

All eyes turned to me.  I set my bowl aside and got to my feet, meeting Cullen with a smile.  "Well that wasn't something I thought I'd hear come from you..." Varric started, then shook his head and sighed.  "Ah, I have got to think of a nickname for you.  It's driving me nuts."  He then went back to eating his meal.  

The Knight-Captain was already turning red.  "I, ah...your lute.  It was broken," he said, all sorts of jumbled.  He probably wasn't expecting several pairs of eyes on him when he came to meet me.  

"Yes," I said back, unable to help my eyebrow from crawling upwards and a smirk hint on my mouth.  "And I asked you to throw it away."

"I didn't know you had a lute," Isabela said from behind me.  I could hear the smug realization in her voice.

I ignored her and kept my attention on Cullen, who was maintaining a steady blush.  The circles under his eyes had visibly reduced, thankfully.  Because as much as I disliked the Templar Order, they were still human.  At least Cullen was.  He made that obvious as he tugged the familiar strap off his shoulder and handed me the object on his back.  With bated breath I unwrapped it, and let a squeal escape me as I saw  _my_ lute, polished and gleaming.  Its neck had been repaired, new strings glinted in the sunlight, and even the knobs were replaced with better ones.  

My feet stamped the ground.  "Cullen!" I whispered-screamed.  "Cullen!  I told you to trash it but you didn't you fixed it!"  My wide, violet eyes snapped back to him, and I saw that he was allowing himself to smile at my perfectly reasonable reaction.

"I...seeing as it was a templar who broke your lute, I took it upon myself to have it fixed," he said, a boyish excitement creeping into his tone.  How old was he, even?  Not much older than I was.  I guessed he had to be somewhere in his early twenties.  

Dateable.

_AHAHAHAHA ALARAN WAY TO HAVE THE HOTS FOR A TEMPLAR WITH A BIASED FEAR OF MAGES AND UNRULY, CURLY HAIR._

_Curly hair I'd like to run my fingers through as I made out with him.  Because he is_ a lot  _more attractive in real life than in the game._

**Don't.**

I slung the lute onto my own back so I had my hands free.  Once I did, I reached up, gripped both sides of Cullen's scratchy face, and yanked him down to my short level so I could plant a ginormous kiss on his forehead.  I repeated the motion on both his cheeks, as well.  I couldn't stop, then.  I had to fling my arms around his neck and hug him.  Instead of hugging me back--or at least attempting to--Cullen's arms stiffed out by his side, making an almost T position.  I didn't care.  I was so, so happy.

"Thank you," I said, pouring as much sincerity and appreciation into those two words as I could.  "Thank you, Cullen."

Then I let go.  Behind me were numerous snickers.  "Hey, you wanna stay for some watermelon?" I invited.

"Alaran..." Anders sighed.  "He probably has mages to turn Tranquil.  I doubt he has time to--"

"You're staying for watermelon!" I clapped.

"Uh...I really shouldn't.  I-I do have work to do, but..."  Cullen's eyes focused on the wound across my throat.  "Sweet Andraste, what happened--"

"Isabela!  Go cut the watermelon!"

"Only if you play the lute for us," the Rivaini said over her shoulder as she went inside to do as I demanded.  I then began telling everybody what Cullen did for me and how he was such a cinnamon roll for it.  

Then we ate watermelon.  My face and fingers quickly became sticky and stained pink.  Hawke and Isabela had a seed-spitting contest, Cullen talked with Carver about templar life, and the rest of us just...hung out.  When I was finished with my slices, I wiped my fingers on Fenris' trousers, producing a disgusted noise from him, and set my lute in my lap.  I started tuning it, slowly drawing in attention not only from my circle of friends, but from the rest of the alienage as well.  The sun had dipped below Lowtown's buildings, relieving us of the glare from its light.  A cool breeze drifted in from the bay.

When I started to play silence fell.  Not a bad silence; a pondering, contemplative one.  It showed that their minds and hearts were trying to process what it was they were hearing into emotions.  I liked that kind of silence.

The piece was from the top of my head, but I still received loud applause when I finished.  I found myself grinning.  At that moment, I knew one thing that I would never have doubts about again.

I was of importance to them.

I was of importance.

The voice in my dream had been right, after all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to post! I had a little case of writer's block, but I'm good, now. The next chapter is going to be exciting, so stay tuned *winks and points gun-fingers at all of you who bother to read these notes*
> 
> Stay lovely, you lovelies!
> 
> (Also you can follow me on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief)


	8. This a Shit, That's a Shit, Everything's a Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gives Hawke encouragement via Eminem lyrics and is dragged into a certain expedition.

Varric Tethras walked with Alaran down the street, bags in both her hands.  He had found it somewhere in his selfish heart to take the girl to the Hightown Bazaar and buy her some new clothes.  Maker knows she needed some, and after all she's done for them, she deserved it.

First there was the Poisoned-By-Mutton incident.  Al took one sniff of the food at the Hanged Man they were all eating and put it down, sticking to some bread and cheese.  The rest of them teased her for being picky about her food, especially since she was as thin as a reed.  But her shoulders only shrugged and said the meat smelled rancid, warning them not to eat it either.  Did they listen?  No.  No, of course not.  And as a result, Varric and basically everybody else were holding their asses as they shuffled off to the privy for the next five days.  Alaran could have just kept away and not bothered with helping soothe their burning guts, but...she didn't.  Instead of going out to the coast and gathering her herbs, Alaran stayed so she could make rounds and take care of everybody by making them tea and soft foods that would be easy on their stomachs.  Varric waited for the knock on his door at one in the afternoon, then watched as Alaran stepped in without waiting for an answer, violet eyes bright and caring, and a poop joke ready to be told.

Then there was the Forgetting-Merrill's-Nameday incident.  Al stormed up to all of them in the Hanged Man as they sat over a round of drinks, the look of a brewing tempest on her usually calm and smiling face.  She then informed them--and the whole tavern--that they needed to hightail it to the alienage and be with Merrill so she wouldn't feel alone on her nameday.  To be fair, Varric didn't even know  _when_ Daisy's nameday was, but with the glare he was getting he and the rest got up from their chairs and all went down together.  Alaran gave them the run-down of what to say and what to avoid saying, especially the mention of Clan Sabrae.  Merrill didn't need reminding that she was a pariah to her people on such a good day.  When they got to her home, they found that she had prepared hearthcakes for them.  Had Alaran not run to the Hanged Man and fetched them, poor Daisy would have been sitting all alone, brokenhearted.  And with as gentle of a heart that she had, she wouldn't have said anything about it.

Finally, there was the Stopping-Blood-Magic-on-the-Wounded-Coast incident.  Al saw some mages taking elves who either came from Lowtown or Darktown and never coming out again as she was passing by on her way down to the shore  She told Hawke about it, and he took it upon himself to check out the shadowy situation.  Turns out a bunch of cultists practicing blood magic on people who were promised money and food if they "worked in a quarry for a bit."  Varric was just glad Al had enough sense not to go in the cave and investigate herself.  She only had a dingy little knife on her hip, concealed only by her too-big, worn tunic.  It turned out, however, that the templars were hunting the cultists but didn't know their location, so they all got a reward for their good deeds.  Then Hawke, Varric, Aveline, and Isabela all pitched in their earnings so Alaran could have a share.  

And those were only the most recent ones.  Safe to say, Alaran had been...great.  Maker, she had always been great.  Which was why he _persuaded_ a certain dwarf to hire Al as a full-time clerk at his stand in Hightown, instead of jut getting paid for her leafy merchandise.

"So how does it feel to be the newest employee of Bodahn Feddic?" he asked.

"It feels...invigorating," Alaran said, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out with a smile.  "Like I can take on the world.  Now I don't have to go out every day and watch for spiders or bandits or anything.  Though I think I'll miss the smell of the ocean.  The  _fresh_ ocean," she added before Varric could make a remark about the smell of the docks.  "Not the stagnant, shit-filled water by the city."

Varric chuckled.  "You're going to be okay handling the pricks that come by and try to sell something for a lower price than it's worth?"

 _"Psh._ Varric, I can handle just about anything.  And when they look at my neck they'll know not to mess with this bad bitch."  Al brushed her thumb against the dark pink, horizontal scar running along her delicate throat.  It had become one of her more defining traits.  Though Varric didn't say it out loud, he saw her becoming a memorable character. One right from a story.  The street-wise yet still compassionate Dalish elf who had no memory prior to her unusual yet spectacular arrival in Kirkwall. Who worked her way up from the bottom without complaint.  She also had an uncanny ability to wield a greatsword--but Varric hadn't seen that aspect of her firsthand, yet--and an even better talent at playing the lute.  He suspected she could draw well, too, though she had yet to reveal that willingly.

"Just be sure that you're dressed for the part," Varric told Alaran.

She held up her bags of clothes.  "Oh, I'll make sure," Alaran winked, her sharp eyes glancing down at him.  When they reached her door, Varric found himself wrapped up in her embrace.  Had she gotten a new soap?  It smelled like lavender.  And--ah, shit, she had gotten one of those fancy breast bands, too.  It seemed she wasn't as flat-chested as everybody thought.

Varric let go of Alaran's thin waist and patted her arm.  "I'll be seeing you around, Al."

"See you around, Varric."  She opened her door and slipped inside.  He caught a glimpse of a vase filled with lavender flowers on her table before it shut.

-

Sandal Feddic was happy Alaran was coming.

Otherworlders made him happy.

Violet and emerald.  Both were nice.  One brought him things, and the other brought him dreams.

He made them happy, too.

Alaran didn't like the Deep Roads, but she had only been there when she was-not there.

Sandal would try to help her.  

But what with?

An enchantment?

Enchantment.

-

Arianni of Clan Sabrae heard three raps on her door.  She quickly peeked out the window to see who it was, then let herself smile when she saw the signature figure with a giant-rimmed hat sitting atop their head.  Arianni opened the entrance to see Alaran's youthful face.   _"Andaran atish'an, da'len,"_ Arianni spoke, the words rolling off her tongue easily.

 _"Aneth ara, hahren,"_ Alaran replied, tilting her chin up slightly to see from underneath her hat.  "It's nice to see you.  May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said, leaning up against the doorway and folding her arms.  "What is it?"

"I need a second opinion."  She held up a small pouch filled with something.  "Black lotus will give you the shits, won't it?  Depending on how much is partaken?"

Arianni blinked.  "Er...yes."   _Why_ was Alaran asking this?  "But if too much is ingested, it could lead to a complete shutdown of the body."  She cocked her head, ears twitching.   _"Da'len,_ why are you asking this?"

The other elf exhaled briefly before saying quietly, "Would you believe me if I said I was trying to poison somebody in order to save them from something?"  

Alaran spoke with honesty.  Arianni beckoned her in as she said, "There are a few foods and drinks that mask the smell of black lotus.  With the amount you'll need, I suggest..."

-

Garrett Hawke sat with Alaran on the porch leading up to Gamlen's house.  He would never call it his actual home.  "I don't like the thought of you coming, Alaran," he said as he itched his beard. 

She ran her fingers through white hair.  "And you think I want to come?  But Bodahn is paying me  _a lot_ of money help him and Sandal.  I've got the best eyes in the business, he said."  Alaran snorted to herself.  "But honestly I think he wants me to come so he can showcase me playing the lute."

"And  _are_ you bringing your lute?" Hawke asked with a raised eyebrow.

"...Yes."  

The two of them shared a small laugh.  She was wearing clothes that actually fit her and didn't look to be falling off.  Still had on those footwraps, though.  "Al," Hawke found himself confessing, "Is this a good idea?  I mean, I'm not afraid of the darkspawn that are down there, but...I don't know how I feel about everything.  I don't trust Bartrand."

Alaran was silent for a few moments before answering seriously.  "Look, Hawke.  If you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted in one moment...would you capture it?  Or just let it slip?"  Her violet eyes were heavy with something.  Hawke didn't know exactly what, but he considered her words.

"I...I'd like to think that I'd capture it," he haltingly replied.

Her smile was small, yet had a touch of melancholy to it.  "Then may you bravely face everything that comes after, Garrett."

Alaran stood and ruffled his black, shaggy hair.  The contact made him close his eyes for a couple moments.  "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."

"Bright and early," he echoed.  As she walked away, Hawke could have sworn she was speaking rapidly to herself with some sort of beat, but figured he was imagining things.

-

Cullen Rutherford was on duty when he saw Bartrand and Varric Tethras' caravan departing to the Deep Roads.  He prayed to the Maker for their safety.  All of those that were going--all of those that he had eaten watermelon with--were among the group.  Except for Carver Hawke.  That was odd; he had spoken about the expedition excitedly when Cullen was with him.  

His heart began beating rapidly in fear when he laid eyes on a certain elf.  Alaran had the lute he returned to her strapped to her back, her giant yet endearing hat flopping up and down as she walked next to Isabela.  Her eyes, which could be seen with purity from a mile away, fell upon his.  Cullen froze, unsure of what he was to do.  She had just caught him staring at her, after all.

A porcelain hand rose in a wave, her mouth breaking out into a grin.  Cullen found himself doing the same and automatically smiled. "Watermelon when we get back, Cullen?" she called, cupping both hands around her lips to amplify the question.  

"Yes," he said, but realized it was barely above a whisper.  Her grin widened.  They were exiting the gates.  So he repeated himself with a semi-shout before it was too late.  "Y-yes!"

He watched as Alaran quickly conversed with Isabela and dug around in the satchel before giving it to the Rivaini and breaking away from the caravan, bolting towards him.  Her hat blew back off her head, held only by the leather cord around her neck.  It released a stream of white hair.  Cullen straightened his back to a near painful point as she slowed to a halt, her chest heaving up and down.  With the clothes she now wore, he could see that her body was quite lithe, reminding him of the day when he saw her naked in Lowtown--

_Maker, give him strength to shun such thoughts._

There was something clutched in her fist.  "Here," Alaran said, extending her arm and opening her hand.  Cullen looked down and saw a plain, rough, gray rock in her palm.  It was fairly sized, but not big enough to be heavy.  "I thought you'd like this," she explained. "It's a geode.  When you get off duty, crack it open--but carefully.  Hopefully what I think will be inside and that it's not just a plain rock, but..." she shrugged her shoulders and smirked.  "If it is, keep it as a paperweight."

A blush was creeping up his neck as he took the stone from her hand.  He had the urge to rub it, but resisted.  "Thank you, Alaran."

She started backtracking, ready to run back to the caravan.  "Oh, and if you need more of that prophet's laurel for your tea, go to Lirene's Ferelden Imports.  Tell her that I sent you, and she'll hook you up."  With another wave, Alaran turned and slipped through the gates just before they closed.  

Cullen looked down at this geode resting in his gauntlet, the excitement of being able to open it making him want to already be off his shift.  He sent an extra silent prayer to the Maker to protect Alaran.  

-

Alaran Lavellan hated the Deep Roads.

So much that it made her start to speak in third person.

_Stop that._

I rolled my head back to stifle a groan, but upon seeing the underground ceiling panic bubbled in my gut.  I quickly looked back down and took in a silent, shaky breath.

"Deep Roads aren't nice," Sandal said to me, gripping my hand.  I looked down and smiled, then gave his hand a squeeze in return.   

"No, no they aren't, Sandal."  Then I had to remember that there were freaking  _darkspawn_ in these places.  But Carver was at home, at least.  He had come to try and join us, which surprised me...Only because I had given him a fair amount of black lotus, which would have any normal person spending a day on the toilet.  He still didn't look well enough to join, and Hawke had to send him back home.  That made Carver angry and he stormed off, a relieved Leandra trailing behind him.  He was going to join the templars, but maybe he wouldn't have such a chip on his shoulder about everything.  

I watched as Hawke and his crew talked up ahead, being on the front lines should anything with claws and fangs jump out of the dark.  Unlike in the game where you could only take three companions, he could actually take everybody.  I hoped they would be okay, especially when they would have to go cut a path through darkspawn.  I also hoped that my decision wouldn't alter anybody else contracting the Blight.  Oh, shit.  What if I've altered something?  What if I altered a fixed point in time?   _What if the universe would explode because I gave Carver the shits by putting black lotus into his porridge--_

Sandal squeezed my hand tighter and I was snapped back to reality.

"You have an enchantment on you, right, Sandal?" I asked the dwarf, making sure he was prepared for when I turned my back and let him wander off.  Previously, I wasn't going to let that happen; Sandal was precious to me, and I had learned that not everything was as clear-cut in real life than in its virtual counterpart.  But something compelled me to let what was going to happen run its course.  It also scared me.  What else would I be compelled to let happen?

 He gave a firm nod.  Then his eyes lit up.  

"Enchantment!  Alaran's enchantment!"  He let go of my hand and dug around in his pocket for a few seconds and pulled out a stone with a rune engraved in it.  I took it and examined what had just been given to me.

Even though I wasn't affected by magic, I could still feel power roiling off the small object.  "What will it do?"

"Not boom."

Our eyes met.  I knelt down on one knee so I was peering up at him.  We were near the back of the caravan, so my sudden movement wouldn't be scrutinized.  "Sandal," I whispered, "what lies inside you that isn't within anybody else?"

In the same level of voice that I had used, Sandal whispered back with a knowing smile, "Enchantment."

-

The Wheel Weaves as the Wheel Wills.

Or some bullshit like that.

Whatever it was that pulled me into going with everybody to check out the red lyrium idol, I didn't know.  The only thing I knew was that I was about to get trapped in the Deep Roads while Bartrand ran off.

Believe me, I had vehemently refused going.  I hoped that if I went, I could be able to open the door back up for them when it was closed shut.  But Isabela had linked my arm with hers and drug me in, going on about how she didn't want me regretting passing up the chance to see something memorable.

I wanted to tell them.  I wanted to tell them what I knew.  Just spill it.  Everything.

But I kept my mouth shut and steeled myself for what was to come.  

While everybody else gathered around the idol, I hung back.  "Hey, guys," I said lightly, "maybe we should be more careful, huh?"

I was ignored.  "You see what I'm seeing?" Varric said disbelievingly.  

"Is that...lyrium?" Hawke asked in a similar tone.

"Lyrium shouldn't be glowing that color," I called airily, heart thudding painfully in my chest.

"It's definitely magic," Anders observed.  "And not the good kind."

I sidled up next to him.  "What does Justice think about it?" I asked.  "Because I'm getting seriously bad vibes from...that."

Anders tilted his head.  "He is...huh.  He's nervous."

"And you think that's a  _good_ sign?" 

"It doesn't look like any kind of lyrium I've ever seen," Varric added.  

"Alaran?" Anders said to me as Varric spoke to Bartrand, who was walking in.  Hawke picked it up and gave it to his dwarf friend.  "Is everything alright?"

I only turned my head and followed the red lyrium idol as it arced through the air from Varric's throw and right into Bartrand's bare hands.  "No," I whispered.  "It's not."

My feet stayed where they were as the elder Tethras closed the heavy doors behind him, the others racing to reach it before it shut.  

Hearing the betrayal in Varric's voice was heartbreaking, and seeing the blatant fear in the eyes of my friends nearly sent me off the edge and into a panic attack.  "Guys," I called, unable to control the trembling coursing through my body.  I pointed a shaking finger in the opposite direction of the door they were standing near.  "I think I see a way out."

-

Because I had so wisely chosen to strap my lute on my back and not oh, say, a  _greatsword,_ I was left with my dinky little dagger when we were attacked by shades and those freaky-ass profanes.  So that meant I had to hang back and watch as everybody was slowly beaten into pulp.

Again,  _this wasn't a game._ A simple healing potion didn't regenerate health completely, and when everybody was finished fighting off enemies, their "health bars" didn't fill back up.  Instead it receded further and further backwards.  And all I could do was offer them support when they stumbled and bandage them up with what little supplies we had.

I knew the demon was going to show up, taking the form of a rock wraith.  Ancient power, attuned with the very earth itself, set my bones buzzing.  "Enough," it rumbled as it formed.  "You have proven your mettle.  I would not see these creatures harmed without need."

"I'd say being attacked on sight gives us plenty of need!" Hawke shot back, sarcasm still fully intact despite how many injuries he sustained.

"They will not assault you further, not without my permission."

"What are these things?" Varric questioned.  "They seem like rock wraiths, but..."

"They hunger," the demon finished.  "The profane have lingered in this place for ages beyond memory, feeding on the magic stones until the need is all they know."

"The lyrium?" Hawke concluded.  "That's what sustains them?"

"I am not as they are.  I am...a visitor."  

"It seems mostly interested in their hunger," Anders said darkly.  "It's a demon, come to feed."

"I would not see my feast end," the demon responded.  "I sense your desire.  You seek to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so."

"Don't do it," Anders warned.  "Demons will trip you up every time."

"What are our options?" Varric mused, bitter desperation in his sienna eyes.

"Why do we need your aid to leave?" Hawke asked the demon.

"There is another door that leads into the paths far above us.  that is what you seek.  It has been sealed, however, and cannot be opened without a key.  I know where the key is.  Do as I ask, and I shall tell you."

"Hmph.  So, Hawke, what do you think?" the dwarf said to his friend.

Silence filled the cavern, and with horror I watched as Hawke made up his mind.  "I'll give my answer," he started to snarl.

"No!" I screamed, and dove in front of him before he could bare-knuckle punch a demon comprised entirely out of stone.  Hawke stopped his assault inches from my face.  "You can't," I gasped, my breath seeming to have disappeared from my lungs.  "You'll die.  All of you will die down here, and that can't happen."

"Alaran," Hawke said darkly.  "Find a place to hide until this is all over."

I was half-tempted to do as he demanded, but I frowned and stayed put.  "No, Hawke.  I won't," I said, the steel in my voice surprising me and everyone else.

I turned to the demon.  "You tell them where the key is, here and now.  In return...in return you get me."

It leaned in close to me, and though it didn't have eyes I could feel its penetrating stare.  "Ah.  So they do not know.  A pity, and a blessing."  Then it stood straight.  "What will you offer me to continue my feast?"

"Stories.  Songs.  Memories.  Knowledge," I answered with a detached calm.  "I have it all, I remember it all.  There is nothing that I will hide from you, as long as you let my friends go unharmed."

"Al, what are you  _doing?"_ Varric softly exclaimed.  I ignored him.  I had to.

"So what will it be, demon?" I said,  _challenged._

There was a short pause before it answered.  "I will accept your offer."

The burst of outcries were nearly instantaneous and simultaneous.  I silenced them with a single, raised hand, and let the demon tell them where the location of the key was.  "You have five minutes," it said, rock crumbling and crashing back to the ground.  "Then you will be mine."  

When it vanished I was flooded with angry demands and questions.  I let them get it all out, my mask of veneer perfectly placed and balanced.  

It was Hawke who finally cracked.  He gripped me by the shoulders and choked out, "Why, Alaran?   _Why?"_

I gave him a small smile and tears filled his eyes, which were more hazel today than gold.  "Because sometimes sacrifice is necessary."

"But what do you have to offer?" he continued to release.  "You're...you're..."

"Plain?  Average?   _Just me?"_ I finished with a sad smirk.  "Oh, I wish that were true."  I gently grabbed his giant hands and placed them back at his sides, where he numbly stood still.  I then turned to the rest of my dear, dear friends, who had looks of shock and despair imbued and etched into their beings.  It broke my heart.  But a broken heart still wouldn’t change my resolve.  “Thank you.  For everything.  You helped me begin another life, one that I thought I would never have.  Now please, go and continue on.  All of you have great things in store.”  My eyes briefly settling on Anders before moving to the others.  “For better or for worse is a matter of perspective.”

“Stop being a fool, Alaran,” Fenris snarled.  He looked to be on the brink of collapse.  “You’re coming with us.”

My smile only grew sadder, resolve stronger.  I walked up to him and, after a pause, softly wrapped my arms around his waist, minding his injuries and his armor, and gently rested my head against his cheek.  “Your freedom doesn’t end here, Fenris.  Please, understand why I’m doing this.”

After a moment one of Fenris’ arms pulled my own waist close while the other cradled the back of my head, careful of his gauntlets getting entangled in my hair.  “You smell of spring lavender,” he stated lowly, some semblance of emotion other than anger in his voice.  “And you move with grace that I have never seen, before.”

I lightly pressed my lips to his dirty cheek, let it linger, then let go.  His eyes remained closed after I pulled away. A pained snarl twisted his mouth.

 _“Dareth shiral, lethallin,”_ Merrill said lamentingly, but with a degree of comprehension the others didn’t have.  Out of everybody, I believed that Merrill knew I wasn’t normal.  She didn’t know why, but she knew.  And she understood.

 _“Dareth shiral, hahren,”_ I replied.  Her green eyes filled with tears at the acknowledgement of respect I had for somebody only a few years older than I was.

I slipped off my lute and handed it out to Varric.  "Keep him safe for me, will you?  I'll need him when I come back."

He knew that I wasn't coming back, but took it anyways.  "'Course, Al," was all he said, not daring to speak any more lest he break down.

I bent down and gave him a peck on the forehead.  "I shit you not, Varric, if you start crying this'll all go to hell," I muttered.  That got a crumpling laugh from him.

Isabela hugged me, took my hat off my head and placed it on her own, and then stroked the back of my head.  "Come back soon, okay, girl?  I still need to show you the seas."

"I will."

Aveline hugged me as well.  "Remain steadfast and strong," she said roughly.  Her words gave me more confidence than she probably imagined.

"Okay, Aveline."

Anders gave a prolonged sigh before he embraced me.  I pretended to sputter on his feathered coat.  "Oh, stop being an ass," he laughed weakly.  

"Only if you'll do the same," I said back, gave him a tighter squeeze, then let go.  

Hawke picked me off my feet, his arms crushing my rib cage.  I didn't make a sound, and just let him do as he wished.  "I'm gonna miss you," he spoke thickly into my hair.

"I'm gonna miss you, too," I said back, voice muffled by his shoulder.  When he set me down, his eyes were rimmed red with tears.  Before their time was up, I abruptly said, "Oh, and...if you guys happen to come by an actual rock wraith, get behind pillars or something that obstructs its energy blasts.  Otherwise you'll be killed.  Please, don't get killed." A weak smile cracked the mask I wore.  "I'm doing this so you all make it out alive.  So don't go doing anything stupid."

"Al, I'm really wishing I got to know your story," Varric said resignedly.

"One day, you will."

His sad smile matched mine.  "One day."

When they had finally disappeared into the passage beyond, I slowly took the rune Sandal had given me out of my pocket.  "Crush it, and you will go into a sleep that was used by the ancient elves," the demon's voice spoke, vibrating my bones.

I pieced everything together in a matter of seconds.

_Uthenera.  The endless dream.  I was going to be trapped in the Fade forever with a demon.  And somehow, to some degree, Sandal knew I would need this enchantment.  Now my body wouldn't starve or die as I became detached from it._

I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Do it, girl."

My eyes closed and I remembered the faces of my friends.  Fingers flexed and crushed the rune in my palm.  

I hardly even felt my body fall to the floor as I was spirited away into the Fade, where my new master awaited.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fingers are smoking because of how fast I cranked this chapter out. What did you think of it? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Did you hate that you liked it? Because I certainly don't know how I feel about it at all. 
> 
> I do know that Sandal definitely knows whats up, as usual.
> 
> I also know that you are all lovely. Don't ever forget that.


	9. Her Half of Radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen watches for Alaran's return.

Cullen waited for word that the expedition had gone well and the caravan was returning.  He wanted to show Alaran what was inside the geode; purple and pink and red and white crystals, all crammed inside, sparkling radiantly as they soaked in the sun.  Except now he had two pieces, and...and, well, he wished to give the other half to her.  Just as a token of friendship.  Yes.  A token of friendship, that's what it was.  He didn't at all think about how the purple crystals reminded him of her eyes and the way they never seemed to dim, even when he found her crying on the floor of her alienage home.

_He has a duty.  Nothing should get in the way of that. Not again. Not like what happened at Kinloch._

And nothing was.  Especially not Alaran.  But she was kind to him when so many weren't, and the light that she held was a blessing in his life from Andraste, as it was to any that were around her.  

When he ran out of prophet's laurel for tea--which he had started to drink on a regular basis each evening, along with a few other templars--he went to Lirene's Ferelden Imports, just as Alaran said.  When Lirene heard him mention the Dalish woman's name, her eyes lit up in fondness and she gave him a discount on the herb.  Cullen donated what little money he had to aid her endeavors in helping the refugees.

When it was reported that there was a caravan returning two weeks later, the Knight-Captain went to the alienage and knocked on the door to Alaran's home, the geodes in a pouch he carried in one of his pockets, heart racing for some irritating reason.  When there was no answer, though, he reckoned that she was at the Hanged Man celebrating with her friends.  Upon travelling to he seedy tavern, however, Cullen found that Alaran wasn't there.

Confused but refusing to be concerned, Cullen returned to the Gallows where he continued to wait.  He went on with his responsibilities to the Order and to keeping the peace for another week.  

On the afternoon before the weekend, word went around the barracks that Hawke and all of his friends were back in Kirkwall looking worse for wear.  When Cullen clocked out for the day, he collected the geodes and once again traveled to her home, admiring the great tree in the center of the alienage.  It always amazed him how such a thing could live healthily when all around it was squalor for miles.  The elves eyed him as suspiciously as they did the last time he came, but it was not an uncommon look Cullen received anywhere he went.  He knocked on her door three times, cursing silently at how loud he had been doing so, probably frightening Alaran and making her think that she was in trouble.  Maker's breath, it was only out of habit.  

No answer yet again.  So, with a small growl, he turned and stomped to the Hanged Man.  Andraste preserve him, he just wanted to  _give_ her part of a rock and see the joy on her face then be on his way.  But she'd probably hold him up and say that they needed to get watermelon.  He had to smile at that; the sight of the area around Alaran's lips stained a light pink was amusing, and he wouldn't mind seeing it again.

At the Hanged Man Cullen saw the people he had been looking for.  But there was no sight of the white-haired, violet-eyed elf he wanted to see.  Maker, he  _wanted_ to see her.  

Varric caught Cullen searching, his sienna eyes growing sadder and mouth pursing into a thin, grim line.  In fact, they all had their heads hung low.  Merrill, the other Dalish elf, was even misty-eyed as she hunched over her ale.  Alaran's lute was propped against the table, and that giant hat rested in the center of them all.

Something was wrong.  Terribly wrong. 

The door burst open behind him.  Cullen stepped aside in time to see a red-faced Carver storming through.  Just a few days ago Cullen had personally seen to it that the younger Hawke become an initiate to the Order.  He was a fine warrior, and would be a great addition to the ranks.  "Garrett," Carver snarled, dressed in civilian clothes.  He still had til the end of the week before he would begin training.  "You prick!  Where were you?  The caravan arrived, but oh no, you just had to _not_ be there!  Do you know how worried sick mother was?"

Instead of speaking up, Hawke merely shook his head and looked back down at the contents of his mug.  It wasn't the reaction Carver was expecting and he started to lose steam.  "What...what happened?"

Nobody answered for a while, but it was Varric who finally spoke.  "Bartrand double-crossed us and left us to die in the Deep Roads.  We...we escaped, but..."

"Alaran," Hawke said hollowly when his dwarven friend couldn't continue.  "She sacrificed herself to a demon to ensure that we would make it out."

The world suddenly buzzed with a kind of silence Cullen only heard when he found that his parents had died.  His knees felt like giving way, so he braced himself against the wall and processed what he just heard.  It couldn't  _possibly_ be true...

Carver wasn't in much better shape.  He actually sunk to his knees and held his head in his hands.  Merrill got up and crouched beside him, whispering incoherent words.  A soft sob wracked through his body.

The sobs Cullen was holding back himself were bitter and aching.  The lyrium called out to him, promised to ease his pain.  

Thoughts of Alaran rose in his mind.  Everything, everything from the first day he saw her, ass-up and thanking him for letting her go, to when she whispered dangerously to him at the gates of the alienage, to when he found her crouched over her broken lute, to when he saw the look on her face when he brought her instrument back repaired and renewed, to the grin spanning her lips upwards as she called to him that they would have watermelon upon her return.  

But he was a templar.  He dealt with death on a weekly--daily--basis.  This shouldn't be any different.

Cullen moved himself off the wall and quietly walked out of the Hanged Man.  The journey back to his office was a blur, one that he hardly remembered at all.  The next thing he knew, he was shoving Alaran's half of the geode in the bottom desk drawer, underneath stacks of parchment and files.  He wouldn't,  _couldn't_ look at it for a second longer.  The radiance it exuded only reminded Cullen of Alaran, of her smirk, of her raised silver eyebrow, of her fingers as they fluidly strummed her lute, of how her whisper felt against his ear. 

But he knew it was foolish to forget about Alaran entirely.  So he simply set his half of the geode in the left corner of the surface of his desk.  

The tears only flowed when lyrium was coursing through the Knight-Captain's veins.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this because I love pain.
> 
> I am a masochist. 
> 
> Don't mind me as I wonder why I do this to myself and to others.


	10. If There are To Be Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al in the Fade. 'Cause obviously she's not dead.

She fed him.

Stories upon stories, songs upon songs, memories upon memories.

At first, he gorged himself on it all, demanding that she didn't stop for an entire year.  It passed in a moment.

Then he...then he fed on her voice.  The rises and pitches of it as she recounted tales, the capturing melody of her songs, the rippling laughter she began exhibiting when she grew more comfortable in her place, her prison.

"You know," she said as they sat on a cropping of rocks on the Wounded Coast.  He let her come to the reflected shoreline because he liked watching how her unnatural, violet eyes brightened upon seeing it.  He fed on the memories of her past days here.  The feel of elfroot stems between her fingers, the warmth of the sand as she dug her toes in, the joy that filled her when friends joined her at the beach.  She missed them.  He fed on her despair, her silent tears that she cried when she thought he had gone to the Waking World.  "I've never told you my name, have I?"

He tilted his head.  She had persuaded him to take on a personage at some point so she could talk to somebody "who wasn't a freaky-as-hell demon."

"No."  He hadn't cared.  He couldn't feed off her name.  It wouldn't be her real one, anyways.

"It's Alaran.  I like my name because I chose it myself."  She smirked and he fed on it, feeling some part of him grow content and want more at the same time.  "You should choose your name."

"I am what I am," he rumbled.  "I need no name."

"Then what will I call you?"

_Demon._

But she never had, not out loud.  "Nobody.  You will call me nobody, for I am nobody."

Instead of being dissuaded by his refusal, her eyes swirled with another thing he could feed off of.  "I think Neil Gaiman wrote a book about a boy called nobody.  It was quite the lovely read.  I can tell you the story, if you'd like."

"Speak."

-

Bod, as I called him, went to the Waking World.  He liked to prowl around in his possessed rock wraith body and sate his hunger in other ways, not just through me.  I was okay with that.  It allowed me to journey through the Fade and discover things I hadn't thought imaginable.  

I checked the strength of the Veil in Kirkwall multiple times.  It wasn't weak enough for me to travel through, at least not in the present time.  But I had only been here for a few weeks, so it wasn't the worst.  I missed everybody, though.  Bod told me that they had made it out of the Deep Roads safely.  They had probably gotten back to their life, even with me gone.  At least I hoped that was the case.

Recreating any scenery I wished for was super fun, and helped me ease the misery I didn't want to wallow in.  It was like Minecraft for the Dream World, but without any creepers.  Just spirits who were attracted to what I was doing.  I enjoyed their company.  They helped fill the loneliness.  And they taught me things, too.  I was a sucker for knowledge and insight, so I readily listened to them, much like Bod listened to me.

The Spirit of Wisdom came to me as I was playing the piano.  It was amazing how I could summon any instrument I wanted here and still be able to perform them.  I played a trumpet for Bod just the other day...or was it only a few hours ago?  I couldn't be sure. Time was flippant in the Fade.

"Hello, Wisdom!" I exclaimed jovially as I hit a crescendo on the keys.  "What can I do ya for?  Ooh, do you want to hear about Christianity?  I really liked the religion route we were taking and thought I'd follow up on it."

The spirit, who defined itself with a female body even though it wasn't technically female, smiled at me and perched on the piano.  "Most definitely.  But another time, perhaps?  I have a friend who has been wanting to meet you for quite some time, and has better answers than I do about the construct of the Fade.  Especially from a more...mortal perspective.  I think you're strong enough to make the travel."

My fingers lifted off the keys.  "Make the travel?  How far away is this friend of yours?"

I found that the prison I made into my home was quite... _big._ At first I couldn't travel very far from where Bod held me, but as I kept at it, as I took the fatigue and feeling of  _thinness_ as a workout, I made it further and further away.  Eventually I had the capability to travel all the way down to the Korcari Wilds and witness the Hero of Ferelden go through the Joining (and see a sexy Alistair).  I could go to Orlais and watch as they brutally conquered Halamshiral from the elves.  I saw it all, and...and I loved it.  Not some of the events themselves, but the  _history_ that it was.  I was a nerd of many things, and history was  _definitely_ one of them.  

Freaking hell.  I really did love it here.

"He is...far," Wisdom said somewhat reluctantly.  I narrowed my eyes at her.

"He's not a spirit, is he?" I cautiously said.  "Wisdom, if he's a demon and you're tricking me..."

She scoffed.  "I am not so cruel as others, Alaran.  You should know that, by now."

I smiled and stood. The piano and its bench rippled and disappeared back into the fabric of the Fade.  "I don't know, Wis, your information on the Third Blight is pretty...nasty."

Wisdom held out her hand.  "I only give the truth."

After a moment and a drawling smirk, I clasped it with my own.  "Take on me, Wisdom, take me on.  Which, by the way, I'm thinking we should have an eighties party in the Fade.  It was a very iconic period in Earth's history--"

The world around us spun into a kaleidoscope of colors and dreams.  I felt the stretch, the slight tug on my body that told me I was travelling far.  Then there was the taste; it wasn't  _exactly_ a taste, but I always knew I was somewhere I had never been, before, because of the tang that filled my mouth.  

Except it didn't end.  Wisdom jerked the two of us out of the kaleidoscope tunnel and into a hurricane of mana and ancient power.  It felt as if I was _inside_ somebody's own piece of the Fade.  My curiosity spiked to a near-maddening level.  Wisdom sensed it and chuckled.  "We are almost there," she assured.

Then we  _pushed_ through something.  I gritted my teeth at the force pushing us back, but Wisdom merely spoke something in ancient elvhen to banish it.  

Our feet touched the grassy ground, and I breathed in the smells of late spring air and a warm sun.  I tilted my head back to the recreated star in the sky and basked in the mellow heat; after all I had done to build my own world and scenery, I could never create scents or temperatures.  Whoever Wisdom was bringing me to, they must have been here for a long time.

I craned my neck to gaze at the tall marble columns rising into the air, dark vines with purple flowers twining up their surfaces.  They lined a pathway softened by vibrant green moss.  On either side of us was an endless area of trees that I was tempted to run through, but I kept my feet walking straight.  Wisps flitted between the trunks, their nature of being one of freedom and bliss.

We came to a courtyard.  I was astounded at the seemingly infinite assortment of flowers and plants growing abundantly, their sweet fragrances overwhelming my senses in a dizzying happiness.  I couldn't help extending a hand and feeling the petals of a hydrangea with the tips of my fingers.  "Come, he is waiting," Wisdom said kindly, and tugged on the hand she was holding in hers.

"Okay, who is 'he?'" I questioned as we continued to walk.  Giant sunflowers towered over me, tilted towards their source of light.  

"A friend."

"You're being very vague about this, you know."

"I am unsure if he would want me to reveal his identity," she said, then smiled.  "He has a flair for the dramatic, though he'll never admit it."

Immediately my mind popped to images of Doctor Strange.  I was expecting a dark, mysterious man with a dark, mysterious goatee and dark, mysterious eyes dressed in elegant yet not ostentatious clothing, reading a book floating in mid-air and idly casting magic.  He would have his back turned to me, and when Wisdom announced us he would say something slightly sardonic but glance over his shoulder nonetheless and get a good look at me before saying something even more sardonic yet borderline flirtatious, using a deep, mysterious voice of his.  I would respond as best I could to the situation with my wits intact and we would start a great friendship.  Maybe he would have answers to the whole "I Got Transported to Another Reality in Another Body" question.

Well...I had the back turned part right.

 _"Ma falon,"_ Wisdom called, "we have arrived."

"I am aware," the person said as he crouched over a light green seedling. It was the only thing growing around a small patch of rich soil.  Fingers traced the air around the small life.  He didn't have a deep voice, but it  _was_ lilting and capturing.  I could hear the smile in it. 

He stood in one fluid motion.  I was kind of let down by the dreads he had going on, but they were well-kept and pulled back, completely shaved off at the sides.  I noticed the pointed ears next.   _Psh._ Of course he had to be an elf.  Why didn't I even think about that?  Typical human stereotype, ugh.  

"Hello," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and giving a dip of his head.  "Wisdom has told me much about you.  I must say, I am eager to hear what you have to share.  My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions."

Wait.

Wait.

**_WAIT._ **

His brows slightly furrowed when I broke down into hissing giggles.  "You?   _You're_ Solas?   _You're_ the one I'm meeting?" I said, pointing a finger at him.  I slapped a hand over my eyes and let all of the hysteria and disbelief come out in a torrent of loud laughter.  

"Alaran, are you well?" Wisdom asked.

"No!  I'm meeting fucking Fen'Harel!" I shouted, my voice rising in level and pitch.  "The person who...who..."  Pieces, disjointed and blurry, water under a thin layer of ice, came to me.  

My laughter faded.  Solas was staring at me with a look in his gray-blue eyes that depicted him internally debating as to how he should react.  "And how did you come by this piece of information?"  He gazed down at Wisdom, who slowly gave a shake of her head.

I was already backtracking.  "Wis, Wis take me back.  Take me back.  Wis, I don't have a good feeling about this."

Solas tilted his head.  "What do you have to be frightened of,  _da'len?"_ His glint faded.  "Why are Mythal's markings on you?  Wisdom did not tell me you were one of her servants."

My feet paused, feeling the cool grass underneath.  What  _did_ I have to be afraid of?  He was probably in  _uthenera,_ just like I was.

And he didn't know all that had changed.

If he tried trapping me in some fashion, Bod would ultimately follow the "footprints" I left in the Fade and demand for my return.  I doubted Solas would give me back to a demon, but I also doubted he had a lot of access to his magic to put up a very good fight.

"I'm not," I answered warily, still ready to bolt at a moment's notice.  "I'm..." I'm Dalish, or at least this body is.  We wear  _vallaslin_ to pay tribute to your people, who we still consider gods.  We were conquered by humans and have only fragments of our history.  They believe you to be an evil god.

_You could change the course of history.  Are you prepared for such a weight?  For all the unseen consequences that will affect every inch of Thedas itself?_

No.  No, I wasn't ready for that. 

A pinch of the truth, then.

"I'm from a different world.  This body was given to me. Or I took it from them.  I don't like the second notion very much."  Bod hadn't begun calling for me, yet, so I took that as a chance to go on.

After glancing at Wisdom, I went on to hesitantly ask, "Would you like to hear some stories?  I'm kind of trapped here forever, so I've got time.  And in return, would...you want to answer some questions I have about the Fade?  My demon master doesn't really like being asked questions, and Wisdom talks in concepts I don't understand, yet."

The spirit beside me let out a breath.  I felt bad for her; I didn't give any hints that I knew  _very_ well who Solas was.  She probably thought she had just sparked a Fade Battle.  A Fade Fight.  Fade Fight Club, where the only two members was a dusty elvhen dude and a girl whose body is unconscious somewhere in the Deep Roads.  Bod never did tell me where he took it to be placed.

"Of course," Solas replied smoothly, his stance relaxing.   _Whew._ I was glad that intense moment was over with.  "Wisdom told me about the demon keeping you in  _uthenera,_ but didn't mention how that came to be.  I would like to hear that story, first."

"Sure.  And after I tell you about that,  _you_ can tell me if the name "Dread Wolf" is just a pun because of your hair."

Wisdom snorted.  I had already told her about the different hairstyles people on earth had, including dread locks.  It made sense why her face lit up at the mention of it.

Solas cocked his head slightly.  "I'm sorry?"

I waved him off.  "Don't worry, I'll explain later."  I used that same hand to hold out in front of him. _Oh, come on, tell me they had handshakes in ancient Arlathan._

He clasped it, but didn't move his hand up and down.  "I'm Alaran, if you didn't know that already."

"A pleasure, Alaran."

-

She  _smelt_ of him.  It was disgusting.  And the smile on her face, the look in her violet eyes, the way she moved as she spoke...he was affecting her.  He was  _feeding_ off her, the one they called Fen'Harel.  The one whose name was cried in rebellion, in victory, in freedom.  The one whose name was whispered in fear, in pain, in sorrow. 

She was his.  She called him Bod, short for Nobody.  He didn't care, nor would he ever.  The only thing that he cared about was being the sole creature to feed off her.  

"Bod?" she asked, head tilting and silver eyebrows drawing together.  "You seem a little off, tonight.  Is everything okay?"

An idea came to him.  "Have you ever experienced pain in the Fade?"

"...No.  Why?"

"Punishment demands pain."

He fed off the look of silent terror as he advanced on her.  "Bod, if you hurt me, I won't tell you any more stories."

"You forget that you are mine.  I do whatever I please."

Her face shifted into something made of starlight and steel and snow.  

_Snow._

_With flakes drifting softly, he was called.  Too real, it felt.  Why was he out here--_

He shook his head.  He did not want his own memories.  He wanted  _hers._ He was hungry.  Too hungry.

"Bod.  Stop."  It was an order, a command.

_He knew what that was, once.  He enjoyed it.  They were smiles and understanding, mana the very air they breathed.  He walked with them, guided them._

_Then the world was set on fire, and he became not him._

"You know  _nothing,"_ he seethed, stopping only inches from her face.  "Do you know what he did?  What the one they call Fen'Harel did to his own People?  To  _us?"_

Violet eyes silently acknowledged the fact that he called her by her name.  "What did he do?" she questioned back.  

"It is not I that shares memories," he spat, and pulled away.  "That is what you do."

"Who said that it has to remain like that?"

"I do."

"And does my opinion not matter?"

"No."

"It will, someday."

-

"I've never been good at keeping plants alive," Alaran said as they tended the garden together.  Solas knew that he didn't truly need to; this was the Fade, not the Waking World.  But it kept him occupied, and reminded him of something he would like to return doing when he awoke from  _uthenera._ "I mean, I won't deny that I'm good at plenty of things, but for some reason I could never water flowers enough, or give them too much water, or...whatever.  I even had a cactus, once, and I killed that, too.  Solas, do you know how hard it is to kill a cactus?  It's near freaking impossible!"  They both shared a laugh.  

"Your world likes having cacti as plants?"

"More as decorations.  I had one on my windowsill.  It was really tiny and sat in this cute little pot and even bloomed for me, once."  She shook her head morosely.  "I thought it would live.  But it didn't.  I honestly wouldn't be surprised that my mom sprayed it with a weedkiller or something just to cause me pain.  She liked to do that.  My dad was physical and my mom was emotional.  Both hurt me in different ways.  But at least my dad stopped when I got older."

Solas cast a sidelong glance at Alaran.  She was concentrating on trimming the spindly thorns on a crystal grace plant, looking as if the abuse she received didn't affect her at all.  Or talking about it, at least. 

His eyes then moved to the giant, wide-rimmed had on her head, shading her face from the sun.  It was something she wore in the Waking World, and the fact that she wore it in the Fade as well meant that she loved it, despite its...different appearance.  

He liked it on her.

Alaran's eyes slid over to him, and he quickly averted his gaze, feeling her smirk without having to see it.  "So how long have you been in here, Solas?" she asked casually, taking a more vicious approach with getting rid of the thorns by conjuring a foreign item from her homeworld and cutting them with a  _snip-snip-snip._

"A long time."

"Oh, yes, thank you for the vague answer.  I really appreciate it," Alaran said sarcastically.

"What is the world like, outside?" Solas questioned, bracing himself for the answer.

"Different."

Ah.  Quite the rebuttal.  "You do not need to fear for what I think,  _lethallan,"_ Solas spoke.  He was now glad Wisdom taught him "Common."  Had she not, he wouldn't have had such intriguing conversations with Alaran.  She was an enigma, a rare soul.  Though Solas lamented the sadness she felt from being unable to see her friends, again, he was also glad that she was here, even if she had a very unique _attitude_.  It was interesting enough.  Alaran kept the loneliness away better than Solas ever could by distracting himself.

"I don't fear what you think.  I fear what will come of it if I do answer you," she responded evenly.  "So don't ask me again."

While Alaran's voice remained light, there was a certain danger to it.  But the day he made was lovely.  Solas didn't want to ruin it, so he let it be.  At least for now.  "Very well.  Would you be willing to continue the story of Harry Potter?  We were on the fourth book, I believe."

"Now you're talking."  She sat back on her haunches and breathed in deeply before talking.  "Let's see, what chapter were we on?  Twenty-one?  Ooh, yeah, this is where things get real intense."  Alaran cleared her throat to prepare recounting the story.  Solas continued to give prune his hollyhocks swaying in the gentle breeze.  _"The Third Task..."_

_-_

She was happier.  Happier than with him, and happier than with the spirits.  She smiled because of him, and not from her memories or songs or stories.

She became distracted.  She slipped up in her accounts, lost track of her lyrics.  

He did not like it.

He wanted to make her see.  Make her see why she should only share herself with him.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as they traveled.  

"To a memory," he replied.  

"One of your memories?"

He did not answer, and she did not press.  They went back to where it all started, to when he became him.  

He watched her face, a mask of horror and awe at the great atrocity done to the world, is caused by the one they call Fen'Harel.  He watched as tears glistened in her violet eyes as the world was rent asunder.  He watched as she cringed from the screams and the wails.  

He watched her turn to him.  "You were not always a demon, were you?"

"No."

"What were you a spirit of?"

He did not remember.  

"Would you want to go back to being a spirit?"

"No.  My hunger is too great.  It will never be satisfied."

She was silent for moments, hours.  Time was inconsistent in the Fade.  She had yet to realize that.

"One day, Bod, I'm going to run out of things to feed you with.  What will you do, then?"  She folded her arms and gazed out at the ruin.

He was honest with her.  "I will consume you."

He knew she would not let that happen without a battle.

"Okay."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not my absolute favorite chapter, but it's one of those chapters that I need to connect the ones before it to the ones after. 
> 
> Hope you guys liked the appearance of our favorite egg.


	11. I've Done My Waiting!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve years of it! In Azkaban!
> 
> Jk, Al isn't in Azkaban. She's in the Fade. And she finds out just how long.

Big moments in history always made an impression in the Fade, and spirits reenacted them without knowing what they were doing.  So when I found that Kirkwall actually had activity, I immediately rushed to it to see what had happened. 

The manifestation of Kirkwall became clearer and clearer the further I delved in.  I recognized the Hightown Bazaar, where Varric bought me clothes and where I went almost daily to sell my leafy greens to Bodahn.  I was moved up the stairs, to the Viscount's Keep, the sounds of distant battle ringing through my ears.

Fear settled in my gut.  It couldn't possibly...

I passed through the doors just to have a ball of flame whiz past my head.  I instinctively ducked, laughed at myself for doing such a thing, and rose back up to see Hawke battling the Arishok.  The laughter quickly faded.  Fenris, Varric, and Aveline all stood at the top of the stairs, looking worried and panicked.  But Hawke, as big as he was, maintained a nimbleness that not many others could achieve, and ducked out of the Qunari's blade moments before it sliced into his skin or impaled him entirely.  In the game you could come back from being impaled with a quick healing potion; I highly doubted that would be the real case if he ever was.

Soon I joined Varric's side, watching the fight unfold.  Hawke had a blade attached to the end of his staff, so when he needed to ward off the Arishok he used that.  After a while, however, he began to lag.  I could tell his mana and stamina were running low.  His health wasn't doing much better, either.  I realized I had been muttering "Come on, Hawke," under my breath for an unspecified amount of time.  I tensed as Hawke stopped dashing away from his foe and faced them head-on, golden eyes on fire.  He began concentrating on casting a spell, but the Arishok was quickly closing in.  Whatever it was, he wouldn't have time to get out of the way before he was mortally wounded and defeated.

I felt the mimic of a slight tug pulling me inward to the source of light Hawke conjured a few feet in front of him.  The Arishok ran straight into it, each step slowing until he was hardly moving at all.  He was straining to get out, and the battle cry pouring from his mouth was one that could strike terror into hearts of many men and women.  

Except the mage standing in front of him.  

 _A gravitational pull.  That's what it was._ Hawke had weakened the Arishok so much that he wouldn't be strong enough to force his way out of the center.  In doing so, though, he had depleted the rest of his mana reserves.  

That wasn't a problem.  Hawke turned his staff to the end with the blade and plunged it through the Arishok's chest, emitting a raging battle cry of his own, face twisted in triumph.  There was something more to it, though.  Something like dread.  Maybe because he knew that more was going to be put on him with the feat he just accomplished.  Whatever it was, Garrett looked...savage.  Deadly.

The gravitational pull weakened, then vanished altogether entirely.  Hawke yanked his blade back just before the Arishok toppled lifelessly to the ground.  The keep roared with cheers as their victor, their Champion, stood before them.  Bloody, battered, and alive.  

His friends-- _my_ friends--ran down to him before he collapsed.  Aveline threw one of his arms over her shoulder while Varric blasted off into a vivid recollection of what he just saw happen a few seconds ago.  Fenris stood there quietly, eyes surveying the Qunari that were surrendering to the remaining templars and guards.   My breath caught in my throat as his gaze landed on me for a second.   _Could he see me?  Could he see that a figment of myself was here?  That it had been here the whole time?_

I raised both my arms to start waving them in the air, mouth opening to call his name.  Hope tightened my chest in a delightfully painful way.  "Fenris!" I shouted.  "Fenris, I'm--"

His green eyes passed over me without any hint he had seen or felt my presence.  

My arms slowly lowered back down.  I watched as the scene came to a close and the spirits lost interest in it.  The people and the hall became blurred and intangible.  As I wandered away, the realization of what I had just witnessed nearly crushed me into oblivion.

_Three years.  I had been gone for three years.  Maybe even more._

It felt like I had only been in the Fade for about six or seven months.  But everything ran together and the traveling time was always different and...

Holy hell.  Three years.

-

Solas could see that something was troubling Alaran the moment she entered the courtyard.  Her hat was absent, as was the light in her eyes and the small smile on her lips.  Her gait was slow, burdened.   _"Ma falon?"_ he asked, standing up fully from where he had been seated cross-legged on the ground.  "What is the matter?"

When she did smile, it was weak.  "You're probably going to laugh at me if I tell you."

"I would not if it was a real issue to you," Solas said gently but firmly.  Alaran sighed and rubbed a silver eyebrow.

"I...I think I've been in  _uthenera_ for three years," she finally said.  "I'm sure for you immortals, three years is nothing.  Hell, you'd probably finish a game of chess in three years like it was nothing.  But in a mortal perspective..."  Alaran shook her head.  "Ah, never mind.  You probably don't get it."

Solas' mouth straightened into an understanding line.  "No, but I can empathize.  You are sad because you've missed out on opportunities, adventures, memories, and life-changing choices.  The friends that you had before you became subject to the will of a demon have most likely moved on and started new journeys in their life, all that you thought you would be a part of.  I can imagine them thinking about you, but your appearance in their minds is fading, and soon all they may be able to remember are the color of your eyes and hair..."

Alaran pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and turned her head away.  Solas stopped and set his jaw, but the action was towards himself.  He had started speaking without considering her feelings at all.  Instead of consoling her, he threw what she had been saddened the most about back in her face.

Solas strode up to Alaran, who was trying to wave him off.  "I'm fine, really," she said, then cleared her throat and directed her gaze back at him.  "I'm fine."

"I know," he only said. Solas drew her in for a hug.

Alaran was small and immense, a body who thrived off of stories and songs and the will to live.  If not for herself, then for others that she cared about.  She was starlight captured in a laugh, in heartfelt comfort.  She possessed a type of magic Solas would never be able to cast, because it was hers and only hers.  

He wanted to be selfish and keep Alaran all to himself.  More than once he thought of following her to where the demon waited and banish it long enough for her to escape.  Then he would take her back and they could spend their days in the Fade together, never having to be lonely again.

But seeing Alaran trying to keep herself in one piece because she had been reminded of her isolation was...heartbreaking.  Solas would not stand to see it last.

Kindly pushing her far enough away to gaze into her pure, beautiful eyes, Solas said, "I will help you leave."  He kept his face placid even as his heart crumbled.

The expression on Alaran's face numbed some of the pain, however.  "You will?" she whispered, hope dashing her breath.  

"Of course."  He wanted to brush back her white hair behind her delicate, elongated ear.  He wanted to press his lips against hers and  _show_ her how much he meant what he was offering.  

But that would be folly.  By the time Solas awoke from his sleep, she would most likely have been dead for decades.  So he kept his hands back, and kept his feelings locked away.

"When can we start?"

-

"Bod, I'm leaving."

"I'm sorry I couldn't turn you back into a spirit."

"I'm sorry neither of us were strong enough."

"But it's time for me to go."

He wouldn't let her.

So she killed him.

Violet eyes were the last thing he saw, the last thing he fed on.

Perhaps he would remember her when he came back anew.

If not, she would remember him.

And with that he was free.

-

It was the last day they would see each other in the Fade.  Solas decided to make it worthwhile.

"Anything I want?   _Anything?"_ Alaran asked, the smile on her lips wry and delightful.   _"Anything at all?"_

"Yes," he sighed, his lips quirking upwards in defiance of the tone of his voice.  "So what shall it be?"

She exaggeratedly shrugged her shoulders, making an accompanying face to go along with it.  "This is such short notice.  I-I mean, Solas, to think that you would even  _do_ something like this for me is..."  Her mouth quivered mockingly, and she sniffed a a few times.  Solas rolled his eyes.   _"Truly_ heartfelt."

"Do not make me rescind my offer."

"Rescind?   _Rescind?_ You're gonna renege on me?" Alaran asked incredulously.  "You...you little mitch!"

He shot her a glare.  "That story was by  _far_ the worst thing I have ever heard.  I weep for your society and the fact that it finds  _Real Husbands of Hollywood_ amusing."

"Hue hue hue," was her reply.

"Pick," he insisted.  Alaran hummed and pushed her lips to the side in contemplation, but Solas knew that she was only doing it to be considerate.  She had chosen long ago what she wanted to see.

"I want...I want a winter forest, with barren trees blanketed by snow, slumbering until spring.  I want icicles as their leaves.  I want a sun hidden by a thin veil of fog, and a day so still it seems like breathing disturbs it.  I want...I want silence in its purest form."

It took more than a moment for Solas to respond.  His mouth was unable to move, mind unable to work.

Alaran was patient.  She continued to gaze up at him with calm and compassion until he was ready.

He waved a hand in the air and the Fade shifted, recreating everything Alaran wanted, right down to the stems of frost crawling up the tree branches.  He even made it bitingly cold, but since this was the Fade, the temperature didn't affect their bodies like it would have in the Waking World.  

With glowing violet eyes, Alaran took in the scene around her.  Her mouth was open slightly, wonder and awe her very essence.  "Solas," she whispered reverently.  "Solas, thank you."

She took a step forward, then another, until she was standing a few feet away from him.  Solas drank in the image: the rich green dress that came down to her knees, the black jacket covering her arms, the white braid slung over her shoulder, the simple silver shoes on her feet.  

"A red bird," Alaran said suddenly.  "I want a red bird, right there."  She pointed to a nearby branch.  "Then it'll be perfect."

Solas willed it to appear.  It was puffy and fat, just like she would have wanted.  Her grin widened, and she looked back at him and held out her hand.  "Let's enjoy this, shall we?"

 After a moment's hesitation, Solas let his hand slip into hers.  She twined her fingers between his as if it had been something they were used to, something long practiced.  

His heart stuttered.

"Thank you for everything, Solas," Alaran said after a comfortable silence.  "You taught me so much, and now this..."  She looked up at the foggy sky, the curve of her throat a delicate arc.  "You've given me a parting present.  I think I should do the same.

"I've never sung for you.  I've played instruments and told stories and recited history, but...never a song.  I was always afraid Bod would know that I sang for you, and he loved my songs the most--well, as much as a demon could love.  But now that he's gone..."  A look of pain slid across her face. Solas knew Alaran had cared for him.  She wanted to help the demon, but he was too old, too set in his ways.  She had to end him.  "Now that he's gone I can sing for you."

Solas' head tilted a fraction.  "I must say, I am quite interested to hear."

Her smile returned.  "Good."

Alaran twirled away so she was standing before him.  A guitar appeared in her grasp.  Solas had come to appreciate the meaning of "if a lute was a sunset, then a guitar would be a forest" that she repeated to him more than once.

Fingers began strumming a lulling, enthralling tune. few beats later Alaran began to sing.

 _"Hello darkness, my old friend_  
_I've come to talk with you again_  
_Because a vision softly creeping_  
_Left its seeds while I was sleeping_  
_And the vision that was planted in my brain_  
_Still remains within the sound of silence"_

 _In restless dreams I walked alone_  
_Narrow streets of cobblestone,_  
_'Neath the halo of a street lamp,_  
_I turned my collar to the cold and damp_  
_When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light_  
_That split the night_  
_And touched the sound of silence._  
  
_And in the naked light I saw_  
_Ten thousand people, maybe more._  
_People talking without speaking,_  
_People hearing without listening,_  
_People writing songs that voices never share_  
_And no one dared_  
_Disturb the sound of silence."_

While she sang, Solas finally acknowledged that he had fallen in love with Alaran a long time ago.

 _"Fools," said I, "You do not know._  
_Silence like a cancer grows._  
_Hear my words that I might teach you._  
_Take my arms that I might reach you."_  
_But my words like silent raindrops fell_  
_And echoed in the wells of silence_  
  
_And the people bowed and prayed_  
_To the neon god they made._  
_And the sign flashed out its warning_  
_In the words that it was forming._  
_And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls_  
_And tenement halls_  
_And whispered in the sounds of silence."_

And he was going to miss Alaran.

-

"I will find you when you dream," Wisdom said as she took my hand in hers.

"Please, do," I said, and gave her a farewell hug.  "We still have so much to talk about."

"Yes.  And maybe then you can introduce me to your friend Merrill."

"Watch out for Justice!" another spirit called.

"Don't let the demons get you!"

"Come back soon!"

"She's leaving?"

Wisdom shook her head and chuckled, then let me go so I could say goodbye to Solas.  "You've been a great friend and companion," I said to him.  "I'll try to find you."

"I would enjoy that," he said, but we both knew that it would be nearly impossible. 

As I hugged him, I said in his ear, "Don't do anything stupid when you wake up, okay?  It's not going to be as bad as it first appears."  I pulled away, not wanting to say anymore for fear of giving him a vital piece of the future, or the fact that I knew what he had done.  "And who knows?  We might just meet each other again."

His smile was sadder than I expected.  "Perhaps one day."

I tugged on one of his dread locks.  "Keep these, yeah?  Wouldn't want to see your dread-wolf-locks stuck in the Fade or something."

Solas chuckled but didn't say anything more on the subject.  "Come, let us return you to your body."

It took place in the courtyard.  Solas stood in front of me, close enough that if I extended my hand I would be touching his chest.  I kept my eyes on his as he started weaving magic around me.  Wisps flitted across my exposed skin, caressing me in a tender, caring way.  My body began to tingle to a near uncomfortable level.

 _"Ir abelas._ It should not be long now," Solas assured when he saw my discomfort.  There was worry in his gaze...

Worry for me.

Oh, no.

I was such an idiot.

"Solas," I spoke quietly, for once at a loss of words.  "Solas..."

 _"Dareth shiral, lethallan,"_ he said with a melancholic smile.

I was half-gone already.  There was a coldness on my back and an aching in my neck.  In another few seconds I would be in another world entirely, and we wouldn't see each other...perhaps ever.

"I don't want to go," I whispered, the burning in my throat making my voice crack.

Aching relief washed over Solas' expression.  He leaned down and kissed my fading lips.  My stomach transformed into a kaleidoscope of butterflies.  "I will not forget you," Solas promised me.

"You'd better not,  _mitch,"_ I said back, a grin splitting my otherwise despairing face.  

Solas' jaw set and his head tilted in the way that said he wanted to be pissed but found it too funny to really be that.  He opened his mouth to reply.

I never heard it because I awoke.

-

Coughs, rattling and rasping, threatened to make my chest burst.  My eyes didn't want to open, and when they did my vision was blurry and out-of-focus.  The body that I found myself back in was stiff and didn't want to bend.

Basically everything hurt and I was dying.

But I was also alive.  Oh, I was so very much alive.

I didn't notice the tears leaking down my temples and into my grown-out hair until they were caked onto my skin.

When I dared to take in my surroundings, I emitted a surprised noise.  Bod hadn't taken me far from the place I went into my slumber.  The glow of red and blue lyrium provided enough light for me to see that.  I was in some kind of surrounding of rocks pushed off to the side.  It was narrow and tall enough that anybody who looked at it from the other side wouldn't have thought to peek over.  

The thought that Hawke or the others had come back through to try and grab my body kind of crushed my spirit, so I ignored it as best I could and scrambled over the rocks shielding me from view.  My body was weak from being in a comatose state, so when I reached the top I muttered an "oh fuck" as my arms and legs gave out from underneath. I toppled down to the other side.

Rasping with a voice I hadn't used in years, I said into the dank, cold dirt,  _"I hate the Deep Roads."_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sound of Silence is the song Al serenaded Solas with, and it's by Simon & Garfunkel, but Disturbed does an excellent cover of it.
> 
> And I could have spent a few more chapters of Alaran in the Fade, but all I got out of it was a dose of writer's block, so I kind of skimmed ahead. If I get any more ideas about what she did in there I'll probably put it in It Was a Long Story.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr, lovelies, at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief so you can, like, follow me...and stuff.


	12. OMG Did You Hear Who's Back in Town?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al returns to the Waking World

Sandal had always been different.  Alaran was the only one to really get him, so when they broke the news to him that she wouldn't be coming back, that she was dead, Hawke thought that the dwarf would be an emotional mess.  It was an accurate assumption, all things considered.  

Instead, Sandal only smiled and said, "She's in a world of dreams."  Then went back to making whatever it was he had been crafting at the time, leaving Hawke confused.  But he shrugged it off and let the boy cope however it was he wanted.  Maker knows everybody else wished they handled it as well.

Hawke ignored the exclamation Sandal made when he was going over letters at his writing desk.  "She's back!  She's back!"

"Who's back, my boy?" Bodahn asked lightly as he polished a pendant.

Sandal clapped happily and laughed, which finally got the Champion's attention.  Or a portion of it, anyways.  "She's back!  She comes back now!"  

With a small shake of his head and a soft chuckle, Hawke went back to his work.  

-

Everything was too  _real._

Had it always been this loud?  This hot?  This...this  _smelly?_ Ugh, the  _smells._ They were revolting.  And my eyes, they weren't focusing like they should.  Nothing was clear enough, vivid enough.  And why was everything so  _bright?_ Was I the only one who noticed that everything freaking  _hurt?_

Probably.  I had been in a coma for three years and miles underground, after all.  

Kirkwall was...the same.  It was still raucous and lively and dusty.  Oh, great, now I noticed the  _dust._ It settled on my skin like a film, each individual speck a tiny needle digging into my flesh.  Combined with the heavy heat of the sun, it made me want to go insane.  But if I just got to the Hanged Man, everything would be okay.  They would all be there, and I can say "Surprise!" and we would all have a good laugh--

Somebody shoved my shoulder.  The impact was brutalizing.  I staggered into the wall of a nearby building, the  _shock_ that it had on my body more severe than the pain itself.  Hot tears filled my eyes, but I refused to let them spill down.  They would probably only make me more miserable.  

I decided to just give up for a minute. The thought of diving back into the crowd made my stomach twist.  My knees popped as I crouched and sat against the wall, taking deep, even breaths and forcing myself to at least try to get used to the taste of the air again.  Dust particles coated my throat, clinging to my insides like parasites.  Did  _nobody_ honestly notice it?  Had  _I_ not noticed it, before?  I couldn't be sure.  I wasn't sure of anything, anymore.  And I still had no idea how long I was gone for, exactly.  For all I knew, that time Solas and I used up to prepare for me to get back and killing Bod may have added one or two more years to my absence.  But if I went up to anybody and asked them what year it was, they would only look at me like I was crazy and tell me to piss off.  

My fingers ran through my short hair, causing the release of a sigh.  It had continued to grow even as I was asleep, so when I awoke I found that it was  _extremely_ long.  And heavy.  Because of my extra-sensitive everything, it made me feel like my head was going to get ripped from my neck.  So, in a fit of panic, I took the dagger that had remained at my side throughout my slumber and cut it all off.  It was still shaggy, but I could definitely feel where some places were chopped shorter than others.  Once I got a mirror I would probably cut it even shorter; the individual strands brushing against my ears, forehead, and neck were overtly obnoxious.  

I closed my eyes to block out the painful sights for a minute or so.  If I stayed too long, the shopkeeper might come out and chase me away.  The thought of them yelling directly at me already made my skin crawl.  

"Excuse me, but are you alright?" a thickly accented voice asked out of nowhere.  My eyes flew back open and I jumped, surprised at the direct question I felt slide over all my senses.  

Too-blue eyes stared concernedly back at me.

The Prince of Starkhaven took a knee a few feet away, head tilting as he continued to speak.  "If you are, you can just tell me to leave," he chuckled easily.  "But if not, I'd be happy to help.  Is there anybody who I can take you to?"

For a few moments, all I did was stare at him.  Since when did  _Sebastian Vael_ show up to the party?  Was it after I had been left to the mercy of the Deep Roads?  That was the only possible explanation.  

My voice was hoarse and scratchy as I replied to the first person I had spoken to since clawing my way out of the underground hell.  "Take me...take me to Garrett Hawke."

His smile irritated me; I knew what he thought me as.  A poor, destitute elf with some kind of injustice done to me and has heard of only one person who will help get retribution.  "Of course, lass."

Sebastian offered his hand to help me up, but I didn't want to feel another's contact.  So I pushed myself up, the little, individual pebbles in the ground digging into my palms.  But now wasn't the time to be a baby.  I had to stand straight and get used to the Waking World once more.  "Where is he at?" I asked, glancing warily at the crowd I would soon have to delve back into.

"Probably at his estate.  If not, then at the Hanged Man.  I'm hoping he's at his estate, though; that tavern is..."  Sebastian trailed off, a grimace encompassing his face.

"It's the butthole of Kirkwall, I know," I said, voice cracking as it regained some volume.

Instead of being offended like I thought he would, the prince threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.  "Aye, that's a good description."  He took in my awful attire.  Between it wearing away over the years and the journey I made back to Kirkwall, my tunic, leggings, and footwraps were dirty and tattered.  I couldn't do anything about it, though; there was nothing on me besides my dagger, and even it wasn't worth enough to buy a new set of clothes.

Sebastian didn't mind as I kept close to him, using his body to shield myself from others.  He hummed a Chantry tune I heard being sung on certain days when I traveled to and from the gates as we walked.  I forced my hands to remain at my sides, fighting the urge to plug my nose from the assaulting stenches and grab the back of Sebastian's tunic like a little child, frightened of all those around me.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself," Sebastian said lightly as we made our way up a flight of stone stairs and into the Hightown Marketplace.  "Why do you want to see Hawke?"

"I...I'm a former friend.  He'll probably want to know I'm back in Kirkwall."  They all would.  "But I've been gone for a while, so I'm not sure if they remember me."

"Oh?  Where to?"

"...Denerim.  Antiva.  Rivain.  Val Royeaux.  A lot of places," I replied.  It was  _technically_ true, as long as Sebastian didn't ask if I went to them in real life.  

"You're quite the traveler," he complimented.  "What did you do there?"

"I learned about their history," I answered.   _That_ was technically true, as well.

"It sounds like an exciting life."

Memories of Solas and I venturing together, hearing the eagerness in his voice as he spoke about ruins and palaces and battlefields, drifted into my mind.  The hollowness I tried to ignore demanded it be felt.  "It was."

The dusty pavement turned to smooth, worn stone under my feet the further we went into Hightown.  Sebastian led me into an unfamiliar territory. His posture was as straight and silently commanding as ever.  And yes, his hair  _was_ actually shaped like in the game.  I wanted to press my hand to the back of his tufted auburn spikes and feel how pointy they were, but kept my cool.  And his rogue's armor glared so much in the sun I had to squint my eyes as I walked beside him.

"Ah! We're here," he announced as we came to a dark wooden door nestled in a corner.  I shuffled to a stop, swallowing the hard lump in my throat and embracing the too-real feeling of my heart thudding in my chest.  I shouldn't be nervous, I really shouldn't.  But I was.  I was, and there was nothing I could do about it.  Because the moment I had been looking forward to was just a few seconds away from happening.

Sebastian pushed the door handle in, striding through as if he had been here multiple times.  I followed, flinching at the sounds of shouting in a couple rooms beyond.  A lot of shouting, from numerous voices.  "Don't...mind them," he said apologetically.  "Things have been tense, lately."

Bodahn and Sandal weren't in the foyer like they always were in the game.  That made my spirits sink a little.  I wanted to thank Sandal for knowing what I needed before I did, as well as ask him just  _how_ he knew.

We journeyed down a hall and through another door, closing in on the source of the fighting.  I touched an ear to make sure it wasn't bleeding from the noise.  Flutters tizzied in my stomach when I heard Aveline yelling indistinctly at Anders, who shouted right back.  Whether those flutters were from excitement or fear, I didn't know.  Probably both. 

 The Prince of Starkhaven cleared his throat.  "I, ah, didn't come today because I knew this would happen.  Excuse me, it'll be just a moment."  He opened the door, releasing a flood of angry, familiar voices.  My heart leaped into my throat.

"Now Choir Boy's here to tell us all to repent of our sins!" I heard Varric groan.  "Shit.  I  need a drink."

"That makes two of us," Isabela agreed.  Good.  So she hadn't run away after the Qunari Invasion.

"Hawke, you have a visitor who would like to speak to you," Sebastian said, ignoring Varric's comment.  

"Who is it?" Hawke answered, his deep voice sounding weary now that it was back to inside level.

"Er, I actually didn't get her name.  But she said she knows you, so..."

Hawke sighed.  "I don't have time for her.  I'm sorry for being an arse, Sebastian, but...we have so much to do--"

I took a deep breath and pushed through the door, revealing myself.  There was no smirk on my face, no smile, no witty retort or question.  Just a thin, straight line for a mouth, half-lidded eyes from trying to focus my sight, and a hunched position attempting not to feel all that touched my skin.

The room was so silent I heard a fly fart.  It was quite beautiful, really.  Like a soft, angelic whistle.

Then Merrill shrieked.

All hell broke loose.

Fenris' chair toppled to the ground as drew his weapon, a look of rage mixed with shock twisting his face into something unholy.  "Get back, demon!" he snarled, nearly lopping off Isabela's head as he hefted his greatsword in the air.  The lyrium tattoos tracing his body flared to life, ready for battle.  More specifically, ready to  _kill._

"For fuck's sake, Fenris!" Isabela screeched as she dove out of the way of his blade, her chair falling to the ground beside the warrior's as she backpedaled.  Her sharp eyes trained themselves on me, assessing everything in a single moment.  "What kind of sick joke is this?" she demanded to know, pointing an accusing dagger in my direction.

"Don't hurt it!" Merrill cried out.  "Can't you see it's not a demon!  It's some kind of spirit!  It won't hurt us!"  She edged closer to me, holding a hand out like I was a stray dog she was trying to tame.  "Nobody will hurt you, I swear," she promised honestly, her spring green eyes wide as she studied every inch of my body.  "Oh, such lovely talent you have!  What kind of spirit are you?"

"Get back, Merrill," Aveline growled, yanking the elf's shoulder backwards.  While her sword wasn't drawn like Fenris' was, she did have an arm stretched back to grab the hilt.  While still keeping Merrill in place, she added,  "We don't want to lose you to something avoidable."

"Al's hair wasn't even like that," Varric said, Bianca casually aimed at me.  A kind of hidden grief spilled into his sienna eyes, as if I was a reminder of somebody loved that was lost.  The finger on his crossbow trembled slightly.  "And you know what?  I'm not in the mood for fucking spirits.  Hawke, do something to get rid of it."

Hawke had his fierce eyes, which were more gold than hazel today, fixed on me, his expression a thunderstorm.  "I told you to get rid of that red lyrium, Varric.  Now things like this are happening.  Sebastian, where did you find this..."  His spitting words physically took a toll on me.  "This  _thing?"_

"If it was a spirit then we'd be able to cast magic on it!" Anders shouted, staff already in hand and a blue kind of glow thrumming off him, one that I knew instinctively that the others didn't see.  I could  _feel_ Justice stirring inside him, ready to act at such a desecration of something Anders cared for.  

"What in the Maker's name is going on?" Sebastian yelled, his bow drawn out of sheer panic at the commotion.

Everybody's reaction happened all at once, not singularly.  There was no way that they were going to let one another speak individually.  

I wanted to curl up into a ball and just  _shut down._ Everything barraging against my entire being threatened to push me off the edge.  Into an abyss of what, I wasn't sure.  Nor would I ever be, because I shoved my wants into a trash can and instead focused my attention on the jagged shard of red lyrium sitting in the center of the table.

So that's why everybody was tweaking out.

I calmly strode forward and snatched it up, raising it in front of me to examine.  I felt its invisible tendrils twining through the air and trying to latch onto any living thing that it could infect.  It still disturbed me that it was alive.  But it couldn't affect me.  Not an Otherworlder.  

The reactions of the others only grew in intensity.  "Red lyrium," I began saying, despite my own weak voice getting swallowed up by the others, "is the main reason I had to stay in the Deep Roads."  Then I turned my attention to Varric, who had shut his mouth to listen to what I had to say.  "And you  _wanna keep a fucKING PIECE OF IT!?"_ I coiled my arm back and hurled it at the dwarf, where it bounced harmlessly off his hairy chest.  Then my arms threw themselves exasperatedly into the air.  "I'm not a spirit!  Why would you shitheads think that?"

"Because  _you died,"_ Hawke shot back, then shook his head.  "And I'm not going to argue with a dead person!"

"I'M NOT DEAD" I burst, my throat probably bleeding from how much it had been used in such short time.  "Why the hell would I be  _dead?"_

"You sacrificed yourself to a demon," Fenris grated.  "It consumed you."

 _"It wanted my stories and songs!"_ I hissed, eyes wide as I tried to get the message across.   _"I was in uthenera!  I was in the Fade the **whole time.**_ Not dead!  Is that what you all thought?   _That I was dead?"_

"She may be possessed," Aveline said warily, releasing Merrill's shoulder.  "Have her checked."

I groaned loudly and drug my hands down my face.  "Oh my good gravy this is ridiculous," I muttered, but stood there as Anders washed his magic over me.  It glided off like water on stone.

"I--she's not..." Anders sputtered.  His eyes then narrowed his eyes at me.  "You're still not affected by magic, are you?"

"No!" I snapped.  "And the fact that you're still stuck on that after three years is really sad!"

"Three years?" Hawke repeated.  "Alaran, you haven't been d--I mean,  _gone_ for three years.  It's been six.  And Maker, you still look the same.  How is that possible?"

Merrill answered for me.  I wouldn't have been able to, anyways, because I was still trying to process the fact that my fears had been confirmed.  Six.  Six years.  The closer I looked at everybody, the more I noticed an extra wrinkle here, a different hairstyle there, and an overall  _age_ that came upon them.   _"Uthenera_ is a slumber that the ancient elvhen used to practice, when their immortality was too much to bear..."  She then gasped loudly and fell to the ground in a bowing position.   _"Ir abelas, Mythal, I am not worthy of your presence--"_

"What the poop?" I interrupted, then laughed hoarsely when I realized what Merrill thought.  "Dude, I'm not Mythal.  Sandal just gave me a rune that blasted me off into Fade World."

"O-oh."  She got up, the tips of her ears red.  

"So you were in there...the whole time?" Varric questioned.  I gave a nod in affirmation.  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "We...we went looking for you, but we thought that the demon had..."

"Eaten you," Isabela finished.  

I didn't tell them that I was only a few feet away from where they probably walked, searching for any remains.  "Well, I'm not, uh, demon poop.  Wait, do demons poop?"  I hadn't ever thought to ask  _anybody_ that in the Fade.  Maybe Wisdom would know.  If she didn't, then I would probably never get an answer for the rest of my life.

"How did you escape?" Aveline asked me.  Fenris had finally sheathed his greatsword and was bending down to pick up his chair.  

"I'm going to answer everything, I promise," I said, a smirk breaking out on my face for the first time since my return.  Six faces lit up at the sight.  "But I haven't bathed in years.  I think I need to do that."

Hawke ignored my sentence about being unwashed and pounced on me, wrapping me up in a giant hug and lifting me off my feet, just like he used to.  I winced at the way his mage armor bit into my skin, but kept my pains silent.  It wasn't worth it to have him stop.  "I'm glad you're not dead, Al," he purred.  

"Me, too," I chuckled.  

Home.  I was home.

"Oh," I added as I was set back down.  I pointed to the red lyrium still lying on the floor.  "Destroy that.  Wait--give it to Sandal.  He'll know what to do with it."

"Al, you don't--" Varric started.

"Zip it.  I walked in with you guys acting like a crazy bunch of monsters because of that thing.  Don't risk your sanity for one shard.  Get rid of it.  Better yet, get rid of it  _now."_

The dwarf opened his mouth to argue, but closed it after regaining a better judgement.  "For somebody who returned from the dead?  'Course," he said with an easy smile.  Then his eyes moved over to Sebastian, who was standing there, still absolutely dumbstruck about what just happened.  "Choir Boy, meet Al.  Al, meet Choir Boy."

He bowed to me.  "I...I apologize for not knowing who you were.  Had I known, I would have acted  _very_ differently."

"It's alright, Sebastian," I said with a smile.  "Had I known that my little surprise entrance was going to be that  _life-threatening,_ I would have told you, too."

"It was a perfectly reasonable reaction!" Isabela sniffed, came around to my side of the table, and put an arm over my shoulders.  I tensed, waiting for the shock of the contact, but it wasn't as severe as I thought it'd be.  "Come on, little lady.  Let's get you a bath, yeah?  Then you can give me all the spoilers about your brave journey."

-

I had forgotten how good a bath felt.  I never needed one in the Fade, so I never bothered to recreate it.  But lordy, it was  _amazing._

"Andraste's ass," Isabela murmured as she washed my hair.  "We'll have to do something about this.  What overcame you to do this?  You had such lovely locks."

"It was too heavy.  I thought my head was going to fall off," I replied wish a shrug, the water lapping against my chest from the motion.  Underneath the surface, fingers prodded my ribs, feeling each individual bone.  Though I had gone six years without needing food or drink, my body still had been affected, leaving me somewhat emaciated.

"That's ridiculous."

"It was down to the floor, Isabela.  And all of my senses were overwhelmingly sharpened, so much that it hurt to breathe the outside air because of the humidity."

She harrumphed and continued.  "Well don't worry, I've got your back."  

After rinsing my hair, the rogue pulled out a small, sharp dagger and started chopping away, shearing small locks off here and there.  As she worked I let myself soak, the smell of lavender wafting to my nostrils.  After a while, I felt Isabela switch out her dagger for a smaller, itty-bitty knife.  She used it to shave the lower back of my scalp, but left enough so I wasn't completely hairless.  Her hands were so light and deft I hardly noticed a thing.  

"There," Isabela announced.  I craned my head back to look up at her, smiling.  She was...what?  Twenty-seven when I met her?  And now she was thirty-three.  There were light crinkles around her sharp eyes, the lines on the corners of her mouth were more prominent, and her makeup was heavier.  But she was still Isabela.  

"I know what you're thinking," she said dryly, looking back down at me.  "'Wild, crazy Isabela looks like an old codger while I'm sitting here still looking the same.'"

"No," I corrected.  "I'm thinking that you happened to get prettier.  You've aged like a fine wine.  Or, rather,  _finer_ wine.  Your body was ninety-five percent alcohol when I last saw you."

There was a snort and an eye roll, then a flick on the end of my nose.  "Still a smart-ass, I see."

"So what do I look like?" I asked.  "I still haven't seen myself in a mirror."

The Rivaini pushed her lips to the side as she gathered her thoughts.  "You look...you look like you've aged, but you haven't.   _That_ creates some sort of ageless look.  It's a bit freaky."

"Thank you for your input."

"You're welcome, love."

-

"Oh, my, don't you look...different," Merrill said as I reappeared once more.  I raised an eyebrow and she stuttered out, "I mean, i-it's not a  _bad_ look; quite the opposite, really.  Just different."

"You're welcome," Isabela said as she walked past me, sitting back down at her seat and propping her feet on the table.

With a simpering expression, Hawke asked, "Did you leave all of her hair stubble in my bathtub?"

Isabela shot him a wink and a  _clk_ sound from the side of her mouth.  Hawke looked to me.  I gave a single nod.  He bowed his head and whimpered.

The queen of all things booty-ful had thrown me into a kind of dark blue silken robe, but apparently it was actual clothing because she tied a turquoise sash around my waist and said I was good to go.  The robe, rather than revealing an ample swell of breasts, only showcased my chest bones and a little dip of cleavage.  Not wearing any type of breast band was quite liberating.  Isabela tried getting me to go without underwear, either, but I wasn't as brazen as she was.  But she  _had_ done a fine job on my hair.  Six years ago it came down to my shoulders and was shaved off on one small side; now it was short on the sides and long on the top, sweeping over to the right side of my scalp.  The hairstyle defined my angularity even more, and exposed the agelessness Isabela told me about.  Because of that factor, I...I wasn't fond looking at my reflection.

"So, Al," Varric said, leaning forward and propping his hands into a temple.  "What happened?"

I grabbed the bowl of grapes on the table and set them in front of me.  "I offered Bod everything I had in my mind--that's the name of the hunger demon.  Well, the name I gave him.  He wanted to kill me a few times, but I always stopped him by holding stories and songs over his head.  Oh, and memories.  He liked memories of us.  Never would admit it, but he did."

"So you made friends with the demon who kept you prisoner," Fenris scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and slouching back in his chair.  You'd think that in six years he'd do a little maturing, but apparently not.  

"I guess you can say he was," I said back, tilting my chin up a bit.  I had not been spoken to in such a way since I left.  It was not something I would submit to getting used to once more.  "But that didn't stop me from killing him to get out."  

"You're still not telling us why it wanted you," Aveline said, giving me her kindly Captain of the Guard look.  

I ate another grape before I answered.  Its sweetening tartness sent a shiver down my back and brought a poorly concealed grin to my face.  "Because I have...different...stories, songs, and memories."

Damn.  I hadn't gotten this far in my layout plan.  "What kind of stories, songs, and memories?" Merrill inquired, trying to narrow her eyes like Aveline's not-so-kindly Captain of the Guard look.  She ended up looking like she couldn't quite get a sneeze to pull through.  

I levelly gazed at her, then at the rest of them, one-by-one.  "None of you are prepared to know."  I could feel their hearts and minds.  They wouldn't accept me, accept the fact that I wasn't from this world.  Not yet.  Shit had to get weirder.  

"Oh, come on," Anders groaned.  "Don't give us  _that._ We've waited six years to know why the demon traded the location of the key for you so easily!"  The blueish glow intensified.  "What did it tell you?  What did it reveal to you?"

I propped my elbows on the desk, head tilting to the side rather than up.  "Why Anders, is that you?" I asked quietly, sarcastically.  "I hardly recognized you, with the possession ripping through your body."  When he fell silent, jaw twitching, I went on.  "Bod gave me nothing, because I wanted nothing.  Do you think I'm stupid enough to accept something from a  _demon_ and not be aware that there will be a consequence?"  My head slowly shook.  "No, I just gave him what he hungered for.  I refused when he did offer anything.  I knew what my end of the deal was."

Six years.  I knew what Anders was going to do.  I knew what he was getting everybody else to think.

"Al, I don't know if Isabela told you," Hawke explained, "but Anders has found a way to separate himself from Justice.  We're helping him with his preparation."

My lips parted slightly, a response so cold and harsh it would send Anders' trickery cascading to the ground touching the tip of my tongue.  But I still knew my place.  I wouldn't alter history.  Not for a while, at least.  But Solas said it was bound to happen.  And I trusted his input.

I gave a sidelong glance at Anders as my head remained in Hawke's direction, watching Justice's glow become sharper with each second I kept eye contact with him.  "Is that so," I said more than asked.  Then I smirked and let my gaze drop to my hands.  "Then I'm proud of Anders for entrusting his freedom in your hands."

I hoped my words stung the mage.  

"What did you even do in the Fade?" Hawke followed up.  "I mean, you couldn't have been  _only_ talking to the demon."

"No, I didn't just talk to the demon.  There were lots of spirits there that I spent my time with.  They were my friends."  

_Vines, twisting up marble columns, purple flowers in bloom along the woven twines.  Wisdom and I speaking rapidly about the political maneuverings it took to build the Panama Canal as we walked through them.  Solas greeting us in his garden, tossing his dread locks over his shoulder as he stood to join our conversation._

"For somebody who has no inherent magic whatsoever, you seem to have sympathized with their existence," Fenris put in.

"Yes, and if you'd like, we could come into your dreams and visit with you," I said with a smile that didn't meet my eyes.  He glared at me.  Why was he so pissy?  

I refused to let my feelings get hurt by his ignorant words.  "You can dream walk?" Merrill asked in an awed tone.  "You're not a mage, and you can converse with spirits in the Fade?  And travel willingly to the dreams of others?  You?  A  _somniari?"_

"The last one we encountered ended up nearly getting possessed," Aveline said.  

"I'm stronger," was my simple reply.

"Yes, I can tell, from the way your arms exude muscle and strength," Hawke said with feigned wonder.

My mouth opened to give some serious answer, but I stopped myself.  What had gotten into me?  I was with my  _friends_ again.  If I lightened up, maybe they might, too.

"Hawke," I said somberly, "I brought a special gift from you.  Straight from the Fade."  I lifted my clasped hands together, acting as if there was something within.  Hawke and the others all leaned in to see what it was.  "It's... _this!"_

I jammed my middle finger straight at him, a fake grin plastered from cheek to cheek.

The whole table groaned.

-

Sleep.  Yes.  Sleep.  I was supposed to do that.

Right.

How did I fall asleep, again?

I tossed over onto my other side once more, moaning irritably.  I had been given a place to stay at Hawke's estate, but now that I was in a bed, I found that I couldn't let fatigue gently overcome me like it was supposed to.  

After another twenty minutes of thrashing around and getting nowhere, I sat up in my darkened chamber and threw off the covers, swinging my feet to the side of the bed.  Maybe sleeping for six years had my body charged for a long time.  I highly doubted it, but it could be possible.

As I wandered down the hall, past Hawke's room, I heard breathy grunts coming from the other side.  But no feminine moans or gasps.   _Ew._  I really didn't need to use energy for keeping the image of Garrett Hawke jerking off out of my mind.  

I quickened my pace and went down to the kitchen, making a beeline for the cold box.  I opened it and began digging around for anything.  Eventually my hand latched onto something mushy and stubbly.  I smiled as I beheld a kiwi in my palm, then sat down with a spoon in hand to dig out the contents of the fruit.  Each small bite savored the flavor.  I forgot how much I  _missed_ eating.  Holy canoli, how had I gone without such delicious things for six years?

There was a shuffling from the hall.  I tensed, knuckles turning white as I gripped the spoon, ready to spring into action if it were called.

A lumbering, hairy, shirtless beast rounded the corner, scratching his beard.  I relaxed as he jumped at my sight.

"Freak, Hawke, you scared me," I breathed.

"I scared  _you?_ How?  I’m friendly and approachable!” Hawke protested as he, too, walked to the cold box.  I rolled my eyes and continued to eat my kiwi.

The Champion of Kirkwall grabbed a block of cheese.  Just a pure block of cheese.  And he began eating it.  “You know, Alaran,” he said through a mouthful of the dairy product, “I’m glad you’re back.  And I’m sorry we thought you were dead.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder.  I looked down at it, feeling my mouth turn into something ugly out of disgust.  I knew where those hands had been only a couple minutes ago.  “It’s alright, Hawke,” I said lightly.  “I’m back now.  That’s all that matters.”

His hand moved up to my head to give it a few pats.  “You're right, I suppose."

Hawke plopped down beside me and continued to eat the cheese with a contemplative expression.  I would probably never touch cheese in this house again.

Then his eyes widened and he gasped.  "Maker!  I forgot to tell Carver you're alive!"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke's gross.
> 
> Ah, this chapter. I had half of it written yesterday, then decided that I hated it today, so I deleted the whole thing and started over. I like this version much better, but the earlier draft had one scene that I wished fit into this one. So I'll just tell it to you guys. Al is back in Kirkwall and she's really bugging out with everything, so to help calm her nerves she picks a song and plays it in her head like it's a soundtrack to that very moment. And what was that song? It was "Bust A Move" by Young MC. She jaunted to the lyrics and everything. Maybe another time I'll figure out how to put that song in this story or in Hold On A Second. Maybe even in It Was a Long Story. I don't know.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter. A lot has changed, but a lot is still the same. I'm excited to write more. This precious cinnamon roll AU of mine has quickly steamrolled into something bigger than I first thought it'd be.
> 
> Join me on the Internet at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief It's a world of pure imagination.
> 
> Stay lovely.


	13. Between Right and Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al is taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions of rape. NOTHING is explicit or descriptive, but it is there. If any of you are uncomfortable with it, feel free not to read what's below.

She was standing there.  She was standing there and she was alive a-and  _she was alive._

Carver had no control over his body as he stampeded towards Alaran, whose eyes widened and a terrified, ecstatic grin sprawled across her face as he swallowed her up in his arms.  Maker, had she always been this  _tiny?_

"I-it's good to see you, too, Carver," Alaran said, the words muffled by the bottom half of his chest.  Her arms, which had wound to each side of his waist, tightened in reciprocation of the embrace.  

No.  No, this couldn't be real.  He was dreaming.  This was some kind of blood magic--

The elf who had been dead for six years looked up at him, her chin resting on his front.  "I think you missed me," she observed, violet eyes glistening in the fractured light that poured into Garrett's estate.  

"Not really," Carver found himself saying.  "I hardly noticed you were gone."

"Asshole," she laughed.  He found himself doing the same.  It was a while before he let go of Alaran.  When he did his face was hot with a flush, but for once he didn't care.  The Maker truly watched over His children, providing blessings and acts of mercy to not only towards the faithful, but towards those who needed it.

Alaran looked down at his off-duty templar uniform, a crease forming along her brow.  "I joined the Order," he explained.  "You know, prove myself to the world."

"The only person who needs proving is yourself," Alaran said, a finger lightly tracing the sigil emblazoned on his chest.  Carver found himself holding his breath as she did so.  When she let it drop he finally answered.

"Look, I just needed...to get away from Hawke.  Make my own name.  I thought--"

"I poisoned you on the day we left to the Deep Roads so you wouldn't come with us," Alaran blurted out miserably, covering her eyes with her hands.  Carver froze with his mouth half-opened.  When he didn't say anything she peeked over her fingertips and went on.  "When I brought you and Hawke porridge with bits of fruit in them I put black lotus in yours so you'd get the shits.  I...I'm so sorry, Carver.  I hope you can forgive me, in time..."  She trailed off as Carver broke down into a fit of chuckles.  Alaran took a tentative step towards him.  "W-what is it?"

He clutched his stomach as he let the laughter pour out fully.  "Y-you've been doing Maker-knows-what for the past six years, and you remember  _that?_ Andraste's ass, Alaran!"

She tried to conceal her own smile, but in doing so only made it more apparent.  "I thought you'd be mad, okay?  And yes I remember that, because I felt awful doing it!"

Carver put a hand on her shoulder, nearly entirely engulfing it in his grasp.  Isabela had been right; she really did possess some kind of  _agelessness_ about her, a fragment of immortality.  "I'm happy where I am.  So...thank you.  For, uh, doing what you did."

Alaran shone, but it wasn't entirely out of joy.  There was a secret in her eyes, festering and clawing its way out, slowly killing her in the process.

"...Knight-Corporal Hawke?  Do you understand what I'm saying?" Meredith's voice broke in.  Carver snapped out of reliving the memory and focused on the Knight-Commander seated at her desk in front of him.  

"I-I apologize, Knight-Commander.  I missed that."

Meredith gave him an intimidating gaze before standing and moving to her window to look out of it, hands clasped loosely behind her back.  "Bring the elf to the Gallows.  We cannot risk the safety of this city any more than it already is.  You said that she spent six years in the Fade?"

"Yes, ma'am," Carver replied, the sinking feeling in his gut making him slightly nauseous.  "But--"

"There may be a possible possession on our hands.  Or, for all we know, something far worse."

"She has no magical capabilities, Knight-Commander Meredith," Carver said.  His superior looked over her armored shoulder.  

"None that we can see, yet.  It could be a ruse set up by your brother to protect her." The Knight-Commander's eyes pierced Carver. "We grew lax in keeping tabs on this elf since her arrival; I shall not make the same mistake again."

Though Carver had difficulties with Garrett in the past, he knew his brother wouldn't need to hide somebody who wasn't affected by magic at all.  And the Order stopped tracking Alaran because she truly posed no threat.

Or maybe he did, and maybe she could.

Carver shouldn't have told the Knight-Captain that Alaran was completely immune to magic.  But he would be at the mercy of the Maker if he didn't.  Worse, he would be at the mercy of Meredith Stannard.  "There's one other thing that you might like to know, ma'am."

-

"Y-you mean I'm right?" Merrill stammered breathlessly as I gazed upon the eluvian.  "This is part of our history?"

"Yep.  Though one would think that it would be difficult to step through with all the ornaments..." I waved my hand in front of the mirror.  "Everywhere."

"Wait... _step through?_ I-I had no  _idea..._ " The Dalish tried to get out, but looked as if she was going to have a fatal heart attack before she finished.  

"Not a lot of people do."  I reached past the wooden decoration and touched the surface, feeling the tingle of the Fade.  "Wisdom will want to know what you've accomplished.  She'd have more insight on it all, and would gladly tell you how to open it, as long as you gave her some kind of knowledge in return."

"Wisdom?"

"One of my spirit friends."  I turned my head over my shoulder to smile at Merrill.  "I told her a lot about you, and what you've done to restore the People's culture.  She's been dying to meet you."   _Maybe then she can tell me how Solas is doing._

Merrill looked flattered.   _"Ma serannas,"_ she said, ducking her head down in a nod. "I still can't wrap my head around all the knowledge you've attained.  I hope you can teach me more."

"I...I don't think you're not ready to know about...our...history yet, Merrill," I said with a curt sigh.  "It's not like anything we thought it'd be."

"What do you mean?"

I turned fully to face my friend, seeing the greedy hunger gnawing at her to know, to learn.  Because of that I deflected her question.  "You want to use history as a sword, brandishing it against those who wronged you in the past.  A path like that leads to destruction of both parties.  When that temptation of revenge is gone, I'll explain everything."

She stood, her narrow frame leaning towards me.  "You have no right to keep the past of our People to yourself," Merrill said softly, a hint of danger seeping into her lilting voice.

"And you have no right consorting with a demon to complete that," I responded coolly, gesturing to the eluvian.  "I guess some of us have a better sense at where to draw the line."

"You have  _no_ idea what I've sacrificed to fix that," she snapped.

"But I do," I said, just above a whisper.  Then I gave a shake of my head.  "No.  You're not ready.  You think that you'll help your clan by destroying everything they know and believe.  And you want to do it ruthlessly."  I patted the eluvian's decoration.  "Overcome your pride, Merrill.  When you do, I'll be here."

I silently walked out and into the alienage.  The  _vhenadahl_ was still the same, its rich green leaves fluttering in the warm wind, welcoming me back.  

As I passed through the gates, I felt eyes on me.  There were never eyes on me, not for more than a few moments.  Even though my senses had adjusted somewhat from spending such a long time in the Fade, they were still  _more_ than what they should be.  That included sensing any weakness in the Veil or the buzzing tang of the Fade itself.  

The gaze locked onto my back.  I calmly continued my journey back to Hawke's estate, effortlessly weaving into the crowd.  There was no need for me to look over my shoulder to see who the source of the gaze was; I knew they were templars.  It was only a matter of time before they found out what predicament I had been in for years on end.  The moment Carver came to see me, I knew.  I didn't blame him.  All I felt was pity towards the younger Hawke. When he saw what they would do to me, his allegiance would be put to the test.  And no result would be considered the better one from everybody.  

Chances were I wouldn't make it back to Hawke, and I couldn't trust Carver to tell his elder brother where I had gone.  I didn't want them to think I skipped out, especially with what just happened between Merrill and me.  She'd put all the blame on herself and let it eat away at her.  

I ducked into Lirene's Ferelden Imports like I had been going there all along.  "Alaran?" Lirene gasped, then came around the table to get a better look at me.  "Maker, I thought you were dead!"

"I'm not," I said with a practiced smile.  "But I need you to send a message to The Champion.  You keep in contact with him, don't you?"

"'Course!"  Her pleasant expression slipped.  "Everything alright, love?"

"Peachy.  Just...tell him that Al said they think I've got a Justice of my own, so they're taking me to draw out Vengeance."

Lirene's brows drew together, but she gave a nod.  "Alright."

"Thank you."  I dug into my coin purse and plopped a silver in the donation box to help support the refugees before stepping back out.  If I straight-up told her that the templars were after me, I wouldn't be able to control the reaction from her or the others that overheard.  Suspicion and fear was running high in Kirkwall; even those formerly trustworthy could sell me out for a false promise of security.  The message to Hawke would be coded enough that nobody would understand it except those in our circle of friends.

The moment I stepped back out into the street, three templars approached me, the signs of their lyrium addiction ragged and sour.  They didn't even tell me why they had blocked me off from moving further in any direction; the message was clear.

But I had already faced far worse things.  My chin tilted upwards and a smirk swirled up the corner of my mouth, eyes lightning.  

I knew who I was.  And they were about to find that out, soon enough.

"Hello, boys."

-

The throbbing sting from Hawke's punch encompassed the entire side of Carver's face.  He refused to press a hand to it.  "Do you have any idea just  _what_ you've done?" Hawke snarled.  Magic snapped from the elder brother.  "She was back, Carver!  She was back and you sent her away to the Meredith _Fucking_ Stannard!"

"I had to do my job, Garrett!" Carver exclaimed.  He was standing alone, facing eight people that only looked at him with varying degrees of pity and contempt.  

"But yet you never seem to do what is right," his brother said bitingly.  He ran a hand through his shaggy, unkempt hair.  When he looked back to Carver, his green and gold and brown eyes were despairing.  "Do you have any  _idea_ what they'll do to her?"

"They'll make her Tranquil, that's what," Anders said darkly.  

"They can't make people who aren't mages Tranquil," Carver defensively replied, trying to quell his rising panic.  

"Three silvers says they'll sure try," Varric commented, voice too mild to suggest he was calm. There was a clench to the dwarf's jaw that Carver had never seen before.

He shook his head.  "No.  They wouldn't do that.  They're going to find that she isn't a mage and they're going to let her go."

"So she can go and spread what the templars did to her?" Anders shot back.  "You may be dense, Carver, but you're not that ignorant of what your Holy Order does to keep things quiet."

A silence followed.  Carver already felt a bruise forming.  "What...what are we going to do?" Merrill finally asked, green eyes flitting to her friends. Not to Carver. 

"We can't do anything," Aveline responded, rubbing her forehead stressfully.  "To storm in there--to even  _inquire_ about Alaran--would leave us vulnerable to Meredith's fury.  We're already on thin ice; trying to get Alaran back would send us all into the icy water below."

Isabela shrugged and leaned against the staircase.  "I don't know about the rest of you, but have you honestly  _met_ Alaran?  She can take care of herself."

"Agreed," Fenris said.  Somehow he had gotten a bottle of alcohol in his hand.  "If anything, I'd be worried about the templars."

"Perhaps if I talk to Grand Cleric Elthina she can do something, set this all straight," Sebastian put in.  

"The Chantry won't do shit," Anders growled.  "Elthina will never accuse the templars of doing anything wrong. She always has-- _always will--_ turn a blind eye to the mages. To the injustice."

"Whatever happens to Alaran..." Hawke said severely to Carver, pointing a finger at him.  "Know that it is on you."  He looked at Carver as though they weren't brothers. As though they were enemies.

_Know that it is on you._

Dear Maker, what had he done?

-

"Take her blood," Meredith said glibly, as if she was ordering a meal.  "Have it studied.  If we can use it to our benefit, I want to know."

"Yes, ser," said one of her underlings, his fist thumping against his armored plate in salute as she strode.

The cell door closed.

Four days.  I had been in the Gallows dungeon for four days.  And the past two I was strung up in iron shackles a majority of the time.  My wrists were swollen and bloody from my writhing as the interrogation methods became more torturous, back and shoulders aching from the strain put on them, arms completely numb from the blood loss.

I looked down at my grimy feet that hung limply in the air.  Then my eyes crawled up to the bruises and gashes lining my naked legs, thighs, abdomen, and breasts.  I didn't want to know how my face looked.  

"Be careful," I rasped as two templars came forward, one with a blade and the other with a small bowl.  "You might invoke  _blood magic."_

"You're not a mage," one of the templars sneered.  She had yellow teeth and bad breath.  "What we do to ya won't cause a thing."

"Oh, I know!" I exclaimed airily, ignoring her.  "I'll summon a demon to brush your teeth for you--"

A swift punch to the gut forced my air out.  I coughed and gasped for air, struggling to breathe.   _Totally worth it._

I watched as the templar's blade sliced across my calf, teeth clenching as flesh split open and deep red blood spilled out.  The female templar bent down to catch the rivulets in the bowl.  I wanted to kick her in the stupid face and knock those stupid teeth right out of her skull, but I had been fed only tiny, disgusting meals and given small sips of stale water.  The energy I needed was not the energy I had.  

They at least had the decency to wrap a bandage around the spot where I had been cut.

The day after was a skin and nail sample.  The  _scrape scrape_ of the knife that was supposed to be used to trim hair was probably the worst noise I had ever heard, but because I had been drugged beforehand I couldn't move properly.  Not even when nails were ripped from my fingers.  After that they gave me a small healing potion, to ensure that there wouldn't be an infection spreading inside their favorite subject.  Another drugging agent was shoved down my throat for good measure.

Then  _he_ came.

It was a templar on duty, most likely posted outside my cell door.  Nobody particularly important.

He strung me back up.  I expected more torture, more senseless, repeated questions that I would give the same answers to.  

No.

My body was subjected to his will.  I closed my eyes, silently playing songs in my head to force out the acknowledgement of his touch, his lips, his tongue, as well as the blossoming pain and the frenzied jerking motions.  It never fully worked.  

So when he shoved that same tongue into my mouth and slathered it against my own, I came out of my state of numbness.

I bit down.

Hot blood spurted out and the man screamed, his arms flailing as he tried to pull away.  That was a mistake.  I felt his tongue rip where my teeth were clamped on.  It was only when it was completely severed did he get away.

His shrieks of agony were a symphony to my ears.  I watched with triumph as the templar wriggled on the ground, gagging on his blood and wailing through a hand that covered his now tongueless mouth.  

My cell door burst open and templars poured in to see what the commotion was.  Including Knight-Commander Meredith, who was probably on her way to interrogate me.  Her look of horror was priceless as she put two and two together, from the way my drugged, smirking mouth was oozing with blood and how one of her men was crying into his, pants still down around his ankles.

But I wasn't finished.

I reared my head back enough and spat out my rapist's tongue onto Meredith's chest plate.  She made a sickened, disgusted noise as the small muscle landed with a  _splat_ on her polished metal, then smeared down a few inches before she smacked it off onto the floor.  

Then I grinned.  It was manic and sharp and blood-stained.  For a moment, fear passed over Meredith's visage, turning her into an old, withered, woman.  Then it was gone, and she rightly straightened herself.

"Get him out of here," she commanded heatedly, gesturing to the sobbing, now-mute templar.  "And send a message to the Knight-Captain that he'll be performing another Rite of Tranquility.  She won't be problematic after that."

"But Knight-Commander--" one templar started, glancing nervously at me, then to her.  

 _"Now,"_  she interrupted, turned, and strode out of the room.  

My senses slowly came back to me as I hung limply in my cell.  The ache between my legs was near unbearable, so to distract myself I memorized every inch of that templar's blood smeared on the stone floor, bits of moldy straw mixed in with it.  I hoped the bastard swallowed his blood so when he vomited it back up, his stomach acid would burn the stump in his mouth.  

He hadn't ejaculated, but there was still a possibility of some already inside me.  If I got out of here I would have to take a contraceptive.  Royal elfroot and embrium, mixed together in a pot of tea, with lots of sugar to mask the bitterness.

But who was I kidding.  I wasn't getting out of here.

And neither was that templar's tongue, which still lay on the ground.  Good.

I awaited whoever it was that probably took joy in giving a magical version of a lobotomy, cleaning my mouth of blood as best I could by spitting it onto the floor with a mixture of saliva.  I needed to be ready for a few witty last words.  Hopefully my appearance would spark a sort of anxiousness in them; my grime combined with the templar's blood coating my face, neck, and breasts created something out of a horror movie. That Tranquil brand was not gonna look good with my  _vallaslin._ I hoped Solas and Wisdom wouldn't...

Oh.

Being Tranquil meant getting cut off from the Fade.  Forever.  I would never see my spirit friends again.  I would never see if Bod transformed into something beautiful, something him and something not him.  

And if I ever did see Solas again, I wouldn't be me.  We wouldn't have engaging conversations full of my sarcasm and stupid jokes and exaggerated gestures.  He wouldn't roll his eyes and me or huff a laugh because of it.  

I allowed a single tear to spill down, but nothing more.  The only way to keep from other tears from falling was by fixing my gaze on the door, deciding that if I was going to meet the person who ended Alaran Lavellan's Reign of Awesomeness, I was going to do it with a brave face and unflinching eyes.

After an eternity, the cell door swung open.  "...Have three patrols to do by the end of the day.  Maker, she wants me to--" 

Cullen Rutherford stopped dead in his tracks as he saw who was hanging by their wrists in front of him. 

 _"Alaran,"_ he mouthed, then promptly dropped the sunburst poker in his grip. It clanged against the floor more loudly than it should have.  The templar beside him, a woman with olive skin, emerald green eyes, and a black Mohawk drank in the sight of me, a look of cold fury and anguish turning her otherwise beautiful face into something of barely controlled wrath.  She had a bucket of hot coals in her hand.  

The tumult of emotions I was experiencing made it hard for me to concentrate, resulting in complete silence.  My eyes still glued themselves to the Knight-Captain's, unrelenting in its intensity.

It was the woman who acted first.  She set the coals down and looked to her superior, casting her black, long-lashed eyes slightly down at him.  "This is your problem, Cullen.  I'm done."  With that, the female templar shot me a heartbreaking, apologetic, ancient glance and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Cullen shambled dazedly towards me.  "I...I thought you were  _dead,"_ he whispered.  His eyes were ringed with bruised skin from too many sleepless nights, jaw and neck bristled with stubble from a forgotten shave, hair unruly from fingers running through out of stress.  He was older, more mature, and...sadder.

"Well I'm not," I spoke quietly, the Tranquil brander still in my line of sight.  

"I-I didn't know you were a mage," Cullen sputtered.

"I'm  _not,"_ I hissed, deciding on choosing anger as the prime emotion.  "Magic doesn't work on me, Cullen!  So what does Meredith decide to do?  She  _took samples of me,_ to see if there was anything that made me different.  That they could use.   _All in the name of the greater good, right?"_

"No, that's not...that's not  _true,"_ he insisted.

"Look at me, Cullen, just  _look at me,"_ I furiously demanded.  He did, reluctantly, eyes roving from my gruesome top to the bruises, cuts, raw flesh, and bloody spots where nails used to be everywhere else.  The color drained from his face as the seconds ticked by.  

"Oh, Maker," Cullen finally breathed, grief scrawled everywhere on him.  "I-I didn't know.  I didn't know."

He gripped my waist as tenderly as he could and lifted me up enough so that my shackles could be removed from the hook on the ceiling.  I softly whined and my body sagged immediately, but he was there to catch me.  The cold armor he wore made me shiver.  "Are you going to make me Tranquil?" I had to ask as I regained feeling in my hands and arms.  There was a tremble to my voice.

"No," he responded with quiet fierceness.  "This is...this is an atrocity.  No person should have to be--"

"Don't sympathize me just because I'm not a mage," I snapped, curling away from him and masking my nakedness as best I could.  "I'm not the only one whose been tortured and violated in here.  And face it," I added with an accusatory glare, "if I  _was_ a mage, you'd make me Tranquil."

Cullen struggled with his words for too long.  I scoffed and looked away.  "Whatever chaos comes down upon this order, it deserves it.  I may not be religious, but I'd like to believe that if there  _is_ a Maker, he'd punish those who committed sins that I was victim to rather than just solely possessing magical abilities."  

He remained silent, so long that I thought he wouldn't say anything further.  I shifted to yell at him to leave when he said, "I'm going to get you out of here."

Barely a pause. "How?  You're not going to go against your  _duty."_

"You're not a mage, meaning that you shouldn't be here.  It is my responsibility to see you safely out."

"If Meredith finds out that you helped me escape, she'll...I don't know, but she'll hunt me down, knowing exactly where to go."  I glanced over at the severed tongue.  "She'll want extra revenge, too."

"I...I'll get help.  My partner, Knight-Corporal Lynne...she'll aid us.  I know it," Cullen said firmly.  When he spoke, I saw some of the sadness embedded in his character dissipate.  Not all of it, but some.  "Your story is far from over, Alaran."

It was a struggle to say the next two words, but I was glad I did speak them after the fact.  "Thank you, Cullen."  I wanted to smile but couldn't. 

Because how could I smile when there was a gaping hole inside me?

-

Five days after Alaran's disappearance, there was a knock on the door.  Hawke and the others immediately flew from their seats and raced to the entrance.

They had received a message from a mysterious source that a little lamb would be returning to the herd.  There was only one person in mind.  They waited until long past nightfall for any signs, jumpy and on edge, thinking that they'd finally be able to loosen when they saw a short-haired elf with violet eyes and a smirk. She'd sarcastically be thanking them for all they did to help her.

So, when they were faced with reality, little pieces of their world shattered and fell into a sinking pit.

Knight-Captain Cullen grimly entered. A tall woman in templar uniform closely behind him.  In his arms and bundled in a blanket was Alaran, unconscious but alive.  Bloody, exposed feet poked out from the cover.  Hawke wished that was the worst of it.

It wasn't.

Merrill whimpered and Aveline had to silence her own gasp with a hand.  

"Get her to a bed," the female templar said, surveying the room with emerald green eyes.  "Hurry.  The faster you get out of here, the less chance you have at being discovered."

"What  _happened?"_ Hawke questioned as he led Cullen and the other woman up the stairs and to Alaran's room.  The others automatically followed. 

"Torture, experimentation, starvation," the woman answered bitingly.  "Take your pick.  You'll be right with any of them."

 _"This_ is what you want to support?" Anders spat at Fenris.  "She's not a mage.  Think of what they do to those who have magic in them."

"You want to argue at this moment?" Fenris responded.  "How typical.  Somebody who--"

Hawke spun on them, gripping both collars of their shirts.  "If you two so as  _breathe_ angrily at one another, so help me Maker, I will pound both of you into the ground.  Now is  _not_ the time to be petty."

They glanced at each other and gave somber nods.  Hawke let them go just as Isabela asked, "She's not Tranquil, is she?"

"No, fortunately," Cullen said, entering the room and placing Alaran on the bed like she was a fragile, porcelain-crafted doll.  Her eyes didn't even flutter open, and her split-lip mouth parted slightly.  "But that's what Meredith wanted."

"How did you get her away?" Varric inquired. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

The woman flashed a crooked grin, but it didn't meet her eyes.  "I sneaked her out to the rowboat Cullen was waiting in."

"And you weren't seen?"

"Oh I was, yeah.  There's going to be a warrant out for me, for sure.  Cullen will personally see to it that I'm hunted down."  She winked at the Knight-Captain.

"You gave up your position?  For her?" Aveline asked with soft incredulity.  

"Uh, yes.  But I don't really care.  As long as I've done the right thing."  She didn't expound further and began taking off her gauntlets.  "Now, all of you, get out."

There were several unanimous noises.

"Lynne is a renowned healer who doesn't have magical abilities," Cullen said.  He spoke almost automatically, like he had been rehearsing the lines.  In this moment, though, Hawke didn't give a shit.  "But she prefers to work in private."

"No," Fenris growled.  "We're not leaving her with some stranger."

"Yes, you are," Lynne said back.  "Alaran's taken not only external damage, but internal as well."  She directed her gaze to Merrill.  "I need you to brew some royal elfroot and embrium tea with lots of sugar."

"But that's..."  Realization paled the elf's face.  "Oh, Creators."

"I need all of you to get out. Now."

_-_

I awoke just as the early rays of dawn crept through my room, filling it with a gray light.  

_Hawke's.  I was at Hawke's place.  I was in my room.  I wasn't back...there._

Memories of what happened to me just a day prior set off a dread so heavy it threatened to keep me in bed forever.  

I let myself roll on my stomach, hiding my tears and ragged sobs from the world as I let it flow into the pillow I was face-down in.   _Be strong be strong be strong..._

But I didn't want to be strong.  For the first time in my life, I let myself willingly give in.  How could I be strong when there was so much of me missing?

The door to my room opened loudly enough for me to stop abruptly and peek over my shoulder, blinking a few times so my eyes would be cleared of tears.

Fenris stood there, awkwardly shifting his feet as he held a tray of breakfast food.  In the middle of it sat a slim vase with lavender flowers inside.  He was dressed in casual clothes, no traces of armor anywhere to be seen.

"Oh," I mumbled, sitting up and hurriedly wiping away the wetness on my cheeks.  "I'm sorry."  I felt like I should smile at him, show him that I was alright, but I had zero desire to.  Nothing would have gotten me to smile, anyways, let alone my own self.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," Fenris said.  "I interrupted you.  I'll just...set this here."  He placed the tray on my small table by the window and moved to depart.

"Fenris," I said so timidly I didn't think he would hear.

He did, however, and half-turned back to me.  "Yes?"

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the reaction on his face as I asked, "Could you lay with me?"

They only opened again as there was a rustling on the empty part of the bed.  Fenris slipped under the covers.  I nestled back down and curled into his chest, breath shaky as I succumbed to the memory of pain once more.  It calmed, though, as an arm gingerly placed itself over my waist.

"It will be okay," Fenris said, his low voice soothing and comforting, the back of his thumb tracing up and down my bony spine.  "It will be okay."

I wasn't sure when I fell back asleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't supposed to be so dark. And I seriously debated whether or not I wanted somebody like Hallah Lynne or Cullen to swoop in and save Alaran before she was raped. But I...I wanted to show that there's not always a hero just around the corner. Sometimes terrible, horrible things happen to good people, and the only thing they can do is pick up the pieces of themselves and figure out how to put it all together again. I'm going to try to put a strong sense of her healing process she goes through in my next chapters. Alaran isn't done yet.


	14. Acknowledging What We Must

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets a new friend

They let me stay in bed.

They let me stay quiet.

They didn't say anything when they saw me take a single bite of food and not eat the rest.  

The only question they asked was, "Can I get you anything else?"

I always shook my head, knowing that what I wanted wasn't anything anyone could give back.  

The baths I took were daily, sometimes twice.  I sat in it until the water was cold and there were no more tears left to spill.  Then I changed from one nightgown to the other, always seeing that there was a freshly washed one awaiting in my drawer when I returned.  

Varric was the one who visited me the most frequently as of late, greeting me with an easy smile and some kind of joke that I just couldn't bring myself to smile back at.  He didn't mind.  All he'd do was pull up a chair beside my bed, prop his short legs on the edge of the mattress, and opened a book to read aloud.  He had a glass of water with him to keep his mouth from getting dry as he brought the pages to life.  I faced him, a hand tucked under my head or the pillow, and let myself get lost in the stories until I fell asleep or Varric finished the book.  

We were in the middle of the story when there was a knock on the side of the door.  He paused and I turned over so I could see who it was.

Hawke greeted me with a grin as he stepped into the chamber.  There was a box in his arms.  "Hey, Alaran," he said in his usual lighthearted, slightly sarcastic tone.  That was one thing Hawke got that a lot of others didn't; he knew how to talk to me like I was still a normal person.  

I moved to sit up.  "Hello, Garrett," I said back.  I chose to ignore how soft my voice was now, how it didn't hold what it used to.  "What's in the box?"

He sat down next to my feet, the mattress sinking down a little combined with his bulk and the box resting on his lap.  "Something that might cheer you up."

Hawke reach down and pulled out a little fat blob of rolls and whines.  "Straight from Ferelden," the Champion announced proudly, holding the Mabari puppy Lion King style in the air.  

I covered my mouth to stifle the gasp that the sight of the produced Mabari.  Hesitantly, I reached out and took it from Hawke's hands.  It immediately stopped whining and scrambled so it could have its paws resting on my chest.  "Hi, hey, hello, little puppy," I smiled.  It was the first time I had done so in two weeks.  "Hello,  _da'len."_

"He was the runt of the litter," Hawke said as Varric was shaking his head and chuckling.  I let him crawl on my shoulder and sniff my face with his little button puppy nose.  My ear twitched as he shoved it noisily into my earhole.  "Nobody was going to take him.  So I thought, 'Oh, what a grand idea this would be!  You'd have a Mabari, I'd have a Mabari, it all works out!'"  Hawke paused, then added somberly, "That is, if you want a Mabari."

I took the little guy and held him in front of me, where he rightly grunted.  We peered at each other for a long moment, violet eyes gazing into dark brown ones.  There was already intelligence in them.  

He burped.

"I'm going to call him Bubba," I declared quietly, holding him close to me once more.  "Bubs for short.  Bubberston for long.  Superbubberfragilisticexpialidocious for very long."

"You can take him out in the backyard whenever you feel like," Hawke said, letting his eagerness shine through.  "Beefcakes needs a little friend to play with when I'm not around."

My smile slipped at the thought of getting out of bed and going outside.  It wasn't that I didn't like feeling grass beneath my toes and playing with Bubs.  But there might be somebody.  They would hear me and...and I wouldn't be safe.

Varric saw my thought process.  "Somebody can be with you, if you'd like."

But the sentiment only frustrated me.  I didn't  _want_ to feel this way, and it only made me angry with myself that I couldn't stop it.  

"No, it's fine," I said as I let Bubs lick me.  He had the regular Mabari coat that I saw in the games, but bore a peculiar white muzzle and matching white back left leg.  "I can deal."

Not even I believed that, though.  

Hawke patted my leg.  I involuntarily flinched at his touch and he withdrew, acting as if he meant to do that.  He would have been a spectacular actor on Earth.  "Well whatever you decide, we're happy to help."  He nodded at Varric, who closed the book and stood with a resigned sigh.

"Sorry, Al, but we've gotta deal with some less-than-pleasant stuff at the Gallows.  I think Isabela said she was going to stop by later today, so you can introduce her to Bubba."

I was already curling around him, shutting out the two still standing in my room.  "Okay."

As soon as Varric and Hawke were gone and the door was shut, I whispered to Bubs, "You and I are going to be the best of friends."

He huffed in agreement.

-

Sebastian sat with me on the grass, humming as he whittled a piece of wood with a knife.  I was hunched over the sketchbook recovered by Merrill under my bed shortly after their return, fingers stained with coal as I drew doodles of Bubs and Beefcakes, Hawke's Mabari.  I could start making a comic strip about them.  Bubs and Beefcakes, Mabaris at Large.

I snorted a small laugh at the notion, ignoring Bubba's cries to me as Beefcake held him down with a single paw and panted happily.  At first I thought it was cruel for Hawke to name his female Mabari  _Beefcakes,_ but after seeing her personality and her thick, sturdy build, I understood.  The four of us were in Hawke's backyard.  Though I didn't want to go out, Bubs certainly did, and Mabari puppies, as I learned, could be very  _bossy._ There was no way I was going to be able to potty train him indoors, either.  So for the first time in a long time, I put on a pair of leggings, a "fancy Orlesian" breast band, a shirt, and took my chunkster outside.  Hawke had a nice place to relax outdoors; there were high walls to close off any other prying eyes or petty intruders, two nice, green trees, a small fountain in the center, and a couple of benches dotted about the grass.  

"Is it true you threw rocks at Tal-Vashoth attacking Hawke?" Sebastian suddenly asked as he continued to carve.  

My head tilted as I recalled the memory in its perfection.  "Yeah.  I got some scars on my back to prove it, too."

"Really?"  He sounded genuinely interested.  "From what?"

"I fell on the same rocks that I was throwing."

"Ah," he chuckled.  "I'm sure you've got a lot of scars from a lot of things, from the lifestyle they told me you lived..."

My breath caught in my throat.  I dropped my coal and scrambled away from the sketchbook, clawing at my legging to roll the hem up.  My hand frantically felt for the scar that was left from getting my blood drawn by the templars.  I remembered that because of what came after and then after that and--

There was nothing.  She had healed it all.  The templar with the Mohawk.  Knight-Corporal Lynne.  She made sure that there were no physical injuries left.  I wondered if she thought to try and heal the mental and emotional injuries sustained.  

"Alaran," Sebastian said soothingly, hands hovering near me but not directly coming into contact.  Nobody really touched me, not after I awoke with Fenris lying next to me in bed.  I thought that it would make me better, that  _his_ presence would make me better, but...it didn't.  I asked him as calmly as I could to get out before something bad happened to either one of us, primarily me.  Fenris saw my distress and obliged wordlessly.  Neither he nor anybody brought it up, but I knew that he told them and they figured out the rest, especially when they tried to touch me after and I would shy away from it.  "It's alright, Alaran."

"Stop  _saying_ that," I snapped harshly despite the quiet of my voice.  "Just say anything but that."  One of my hands ran through my hair as I gulped.  Bubba crawled on my lap, pink tongue lapping up at me.  

"Fine," he said, leaning back and distancing himself from me.  And  _why_ did he and everybody else who wasn't Hawke have to talk so calmly around me?  I  _hated_ it.  "Your dog is fat and has this awful stench about him."

Bubs turned his head at Sebastian and growled as menacingly as a puppy could.  Beefcakes flopped down beside me, huffing in agreement.

That was...better.

I held my Mabari in my arms.  "Don't listen to him," I cooed softly.  "I mean, it's not like we can understand him as it is."

"Hey," Sebastian protested as he settled back into his former position, whittling once more.  "Ladies  _love_ the brogue."

"You've committed yourself to a life of chastity, Seb," I scoffed as I gave Bubs a final hug and kiss, then let him go to maul Beefcake.  "Shouldn't ladies be the last thing on your mind?"

"I'm referring to my  _past_ self, obviously," Sebastian answered back, not wanting for me to drop the conversation.  It was the most I had spoken since...

Since then.

Suddenly my voice felt out-of-place, like it shouldn't be in my body, like it shouldn't be  _my_ voice.  

"...always liked it when I did that."  Sebastian whistled lowly to himself and shook his head.  "But the Maker had a higher calling for me.  And I readily took it upon my shoulders."

I gave a short nod to acknowledge that I had listened to him and went back to drawing.  

"So what do you miss about home?"

It was tough trying to answer--the words felt like stones as I spoke, but after a few seconds I did.  "Nothing."  Not that he would understand why I didn't miss my "home."

"Certainly you must.  Everybody misses home."

My response wanted to be curt and cold, but Sebastian was trying.  They were all trying.  I had to give them that.  "I miss...I miss riding."

He glanced my way, arching an auburn brow.  "Oh?  You rode, eh?"

"Yeah."

_They had sold him two months into my treatment.  "You won't be riding again, sweetie," my mother said, a hand going to run over my scalp.  It stopped short when she remembered that my hair would come right out if she did.  "And he's going to a good family, I promise."_

_I hated them.  I hated my parents.  They hadn't even let me say goodbye to Ringo Starr._

_But they were right.  I wouldn't be riding, again.  I hoped he was safe, even after all this._

Sebastian made a satisfied noise as we both worked with our hands.  "I miss my archery range.  It was so  _beautiful._ Targets aplenty, a field of green grass, trees lining the edge of it all..."  He sighed at the fond memory.  "I would die right now if it meant I could go back there."

He continued to fill the silence, talking about Starkhaven.  I listened and talked little, filling the page of my sketchbook with Bubs and Beefcake until there was no more room.  The two hounds had crashed, finally, and were sprawled out in the sunlight with both their tongues lolling out.  

It made me smile.

When I slid my gaze over to Sebastian, I caught him staring at me with a faint smile of his own.  But he quickly averted his own eyes and moved them up to the blue sky.  "I saw you," I muttered as I scratched the tip of my nose.

"Hm?  Saw me do what?" he asked airily, putting a hand to his chest.  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sebastian went back to humming and whittling as I flipped open to a new page.  Had they ever looked through my sketchbook?  It would be acceptable, seeing as they thought I was dead.  I could only imagine the looks on their faces as they saw my doodles of all of them, saying things in unreadable bubbles because I didn't know how to write in Common back then.  They still would have gotten a good laugh out of it.  

Some of the drawings weren't doodles, though.  I had done professional portraits of each of them, as well as landscapes in Kirkwall and the bazaars in both Hightown and Lowtown.  If they had never looked, though, then they would never know.  I probably wouldn't ask them about it, either.

But the day was nice, and Bubba was cute.  

"Here," Sebastian said out-of-the-blue, making me turn my head in time to get clocked in the face with the wooden figurine.  

 _"Agh,"_ I grumbled as Sebastian gasped.  

"Oh, Maker!  I'm so sorry!  I-I thought  you were going to catch that!  Are you alright?"

I rubbed my cheekbone, laughing quietly.  "Yeah, I'm fine."  I picked up the figurine laying in the grass and studied it, smiling.  It was...it was a  _pineapple._

"I love it," I breathed in wonder.

The prince grinned and tucked away his knife.  "Thought you would."

The pineapple was carved down right to the individual leaves splaying out, as well as the spiny notches on the fruit.  Who in their right mind would think that I'd love a wooden pineapple?  It was...it was a pineapple, for crying out loud.  The only way he could have known is if he guessed what type of humor I had.  This man that I didn't know for that long, this man who didn't have to be here with me so I wouldn't be alone, had...

My vision blurred, and I pursed my lips into a forced line.  "Did I do something?"  Sebastian was genuinely concerned.  Ugh.  He was too pure for this world.  "What can I do?  Is there anything I can do?"

"You can stop asking questions like that," I said after I cleared my throat.  "I'm fine."

"I can only do what you say unless you stop saying what you do.  'I'm fine' is one of them."  When I looked at Sebastian again, he had a patient, gentle expression.  He went on.  "I know you're not fine, Alaran.  And you know you're not fine.  Once you acknowledge that, you can begin."

"Begin what?   _Getting over it?_ Well believe it or not, Sebastian, but it's not that easy."  

"Did I ever say it was?"

"No, but I think you think that if I just follow a simple five-step program that it'll be all better."  My voice started feeling like it wasn't mine, again, so I swallowed and spoke even more quietly, "Do you think that I want to acknowledge what happened to me in the first place?  Do you think that I want to go back there?  The only thing that I've come to understand is that there will be a piece of me that nobody will ever be able to give back."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"But I do."  Sebastian scooted closer.  Bubs had sensed my distress and awoke, then lumbered over to me and flung himself down at my side.  I placed a hand on his fat head.  "I don't know if you know this, but my family was murdered six years ago.  The anger I was filled with at not knowing why that had to happen to them, why it had to happen to me, nearly destroyed everything I cared about.  But when I let myself grieve and grieve properly, I was able to take a step forward.  Don't think that I've completely forgotten what I felt and what I still feel, but if you just let somebody help you...if you just let  _us_ help you, coping will become easier."

I let him sit next to me without moving away.  "You're not alone, Alaran.  We believe you, and we believe _in_ you."

In Hawke's backyard, with the sun shining brightly and the exuberant sounds of Hightown heard beyond the walls, I broke down crying.  It was the kind that terrifies a person to hear; those gentle, transcendent sobs that barely make a noise except through tiny gasps and whimpers, reminding us that we're so much of a shell we can't wail and gnash our teeth in despair, only hide in whatever remnants we can still claim for our own.  The kind that makes us sick to our stomach because there's too many bad things inside but we don't know _how_ to get it out.  All we know is that it's raw and consuming and it's taken so much of us that we aren't sure what is left.  It reminds us of every time we cried in the same way prior.  It reminds us what we're crying about in those moments and it  _doesn't let us forget._

There to comfort me were two Mabaris and Starkhaven royalty.

Clutched in my hands and digging into my skin was the pineapple.

-

The sound of the front door slamming open could be heard from the backyard.  I nearly jumped out of my skin and flew to my feet.   _They had come for me.  They had come for me and there was no way Hawke could stop them because Hawke wasn't here in the first place--_

Bubberston leaped up, leaving the bone he was vigorously chewing on the ground to stand in front of me, his short puppy hair ridging on the top of his back.  He snarled, continuing to defend me as I hid behind the trunk of a tree, breathing rapidly through my nose.  I heard yelling, and it was coming closer.  They would be here, soon.  

I grabbed Bubs and held him tightly in my arms, choking on my own fear.  My limbs wouldn't move, and my body felt like it was drugged again, just like it had been in the Gallows.  I couldn't go back there.  I couldn't go back there.

My eyes scanned the wall.  It was high up, and had enough vines to use to climb.

If I pitched myself off of it headfirst, I would die.  Nobody would hurt me, then.

"...gone, Fenris.  If you would just slow down and  _talk_ about it!" Hawke's distant voice yelled. 

"I have no desire to, Hawke," Fenris snarled back.  The backyard door burst open.  I flinched at the noise, but remained where I was.  "Whatever past I had died with my sister.  I have nothing, now!"

Oh.

Oh, no.

With Bubs still in my grasp, I sunk down until I was sitting.  Fenris wasn't acting as calm as he did in the game.  Just the opposite.

I heard him flip over a stone bench with a loud snarl.  "Oh, was that really necessary?" Hawke groaned.  

"What is it that magic hasn't tainted?  My life has been ruined because of it."

"Uh, you do realize you're talking with a mage, right?  And you're using magic as a scapegoat to blame all of the world's problems on."

_"Hawke."_

"Fenris!  Stop saying my name so dramatically!  It doesn't do anything!"

"You have no idea--"

Bubba squirmed out of my arms and flopped on the ground with a grunt, but sprung up and ran past the tree where I was hiding.  I heard a deep, happy bark, informing me that Beefcakes was also there.  

I closed my eyes and faced my anxiety head-on by getting back up and stepping out into the open.

Hawke and Fenris froze mid-action while Beefcakes and Bubba started playing with each other.  I gave a short, hesitant wave.  "Uh, hi.  I'm sorry.  I-I'll just go..."

"No!  No, don't be sorry!" Hawke quickly said, waving his hands in front of him.  "Why were you hiding?"  I wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there forever upon hearing the question.

"Because," I answered, feeling a blush heat my face and neck.  "I...thought you were templars."

Any tension in the yard dissipated.  "Oh," Hawke said softly.  "Sorry, Alaran."

"It's all good," I smiled weakly.  Then I turned to Fenris.  I wanted to yell at him, to ask him why he thought the way he did, but all I could do was quietly say, "I'm sorry for what happened."

His chest moved up and down with the breath he took.  "Alaran, I...I do not believe you know the full story."

_She sold you out for Danarius.  She called you Leto.  You didn't understand why she did it, so you killed her.  She would have told you that you wished for the lyrium markings, even competed for them against others.  You did it to free your mother and sister from slavery.  But she thought you got the better end of the bargain, because freedom was no boon for her._

I only tilted my head slightly to the side and said evenly, "I know more than you think."  I motioned for Hawke to leave us as Fenris angrily rubbed his face with a hand.  He gave a nod and silently departed.  

"And  _what_ do you know?" Fenris inquired wearily. He took a seat on the edge of the fountain.  I walked over to join him, making sure that we weren't so close that we would be touching.

"I know that you thought you'd feel better once you killed all those who had wronged you."  My head shifted back and I peered up at the cloudy, altocumulus sky.  "But you don't.  Nothing has changed, really.  And you're scared because of that.  You want to run, but you have nowhere to run because you're no longer running.  You expected that once you were free, everything would fall back into place.  If anything it's gotten more confusing."  I looked back down at Fenris.  He was staring blankly at his still-bloody hands.  "And it's only going to get more so, for a while."

"When will it end?" he asked in the same level of voice I was using.  

"No idea."

Hesitantly, stiffly, awkwardly, I placed my hand on Fenris' head and pulled him into an embrace.  It was a motion I once would have made naturally and with some kind, witty saying; now it was difficult for me to even _want_ to do it.  The heated contact of skin made my mouth go dry and I was highly tempted to push him back away out of panic, but...he needed comfort.  I still didn't condone, you know,  _killing his sister,_ but...deep down, Fenris was only a scared little boy, acting as rashly as a scared little boy would.  Maybe one day I'd tell him what I knew.  But not right now.  

Fenris didn't protest.  His ear rested against my beating heart.  "It will be okay," I promised, repeating the same words he told me a little over two weeks ago.  "It will be okay."

We both knew it wouldn't.  Not for a long time.  But it was a start.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter. I'm not entirely happy, but that's mainly because I still feel like I'm not a talented enough writer yet to encompass all that Alaran is going through and what she feels. Which is also why this chapter is shorter than some of my others, or at least it feels that way to me. Any feedback would be appreciated.
> 
> I hope you're all staying lovely.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	15. Acting, Not Lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew heads to Vimmark.

"You don't have to go outside, if you don't want to," Isabela said to me as I put my footwraps on in the parlor.

"No, I...I think I'm fine.  I want to go get some watermelon.  I've been craving it," I responded, then stood up and faced the Rivaini.  "And if I'm not fine, then you can carry me princess-style back to the mansion."

She smirked.  "You know I love being the hero, too."

Bubs let out a pitiful whine.  He had to stay because he didn't like to listen to me just yet, so this was his punishment.  He had Sandal to play with, though, so it wasn't like he was being neglected.  But by the sounds he was making it would seem that way.

I pet my dog on the head.   _"Ar ju'shira'eth, ma falon,"_ I said affirmatively.  He huffed but quieted.  There were a lot of things I learned in the Fade; elvhen was one of them, courtesy of Wisdom and Solas.  Did it take me two months to learn?  Two years?  Nobody knows, certainly not me.  All I knew was that my American accent impeded the  _sh_ sounds.  Solas suggested that I get rid of it.  I suggested that he suck a duck.  He didn't get it.

"What did you say to him?" Isabela asked.  We began heading out the door.  I had my hat on, using it to conceal my face from any templars...or people in general.  

"I told him to dig a hole in the backyard so when I kill you we can bury your body quickly."

"Uh huh," she deadpanned.  

I smiled and took her hand.  We headed out the door and into the street.  Isabela let me gather my senses and discern what was going on and what I felt, waiting patiently as I figured out if I wanted to keep going or rush back inside.

"Let's go," I said quietly.  I wasn't sure if there was a reaction on her face because I was too busy studying my feet and what they looked like walking on the stone pavement.  Also, if I kept my chin tucked slightly under, it would help conceal the scar on my neck that had faded into a light pink line.

I wished it could conceal everything.

The two of us made our way into the Hightown Marketplace, where many people loitered under the stands just to escape the glaring heat of the sun for a little while.  I glued myself to Isabela's side, the fruit stand in sight making us pick up our pace.  Or, rather, Isabela matched the hurried pace I was making.  We bought the watermelon without trouble, as well as some strawberries that were calling my name.  This was good.  I was making progress--

_Eyes.  Eyes were on your back.  They were on your back and they weren't leaving and they found you.  You're going back.  This is **your** fault, because you thought you could just go out in the open and pretend like everything was normal.  You're not safe you're not safe you're not SAFE!_

"Let's get you back to the house, eh?" Isabela prompted as I struggled to breathe, whipping my head around to see who was staring at me.  

There wasn't anybody.  

I had dropped the basket of strawberries out of my hands.  They rolled lazily on the ground, spots of red on an otherwise whitish background.  They were soon picked back up by dark brown fingers.  I followed the appendages to the rest of the body, and saw Isabela crouched over them, putting the strawberries into the basket.  She effortlessly held the watermelon under her arm. 

Once the little red fruits had all been placed into their container, we silently went back to Hawke's estate.  The trip itself had only been about seven minutes, but it was the first time I had gone outside of the walls of the place I resided.  Isabela hadn't pressured me into going but showed genuine enthusiasm when I expressed my desire to get out, if for a little while.  She helped me cope by not filling the silence with small conversations I wasn't fond of taking the energy to answer.

I didn't ask, but I didn't have to.  Isabela had been violated in some fashion or another.  Just with the way she acted, the understanding she showed through all of her sarcasm and dodges, told me that she knew what I was going through.  I doubted anybody was there for her like she was for me.  I bet Isabela was strong and undeterred, while here I was, moping and crying uncontrollably and it had been three weeks yet I was still afraid of people coming after me--

Isabela nudged my shoulder.  "Something on your mind?" she inquired lightly as she placed the watermelon on the kitchen counter.  "If it's about sharing this with Hawke and Sebastian, I completely agree with you.  We should most definitely  _not_ let them have any."

"I'm weak," I whispered.  

Isabela's smirk slipped.  "Oh, my dear girl," she said back, her caramel-colored eyes shining with compassion.  "You are not weak."

"It's been  _three_ weeks and I-I still can't get  _over_ it..."

"Yes, it's been  _three weeks._ Alaran, it's  _only_ been three weeks.  What makes you think that you can put a time limit as to how long you're allowed to grieve and process?"  Isabela came over to stand by me as I let tears of frustration roll down my cheeks.  I allowed her to pull me into a hug, hoping she wouldn't mind the snot leaking out of my nose.  "Sorry to tell you this, girly, but just because you want to move on doesn't mean that it's going to happen after you will it.  I mean, sure, it'll help, but with what you've been through...it's going to be a long while.  And it's okay to not be okay.  Shit, I don't think  _any_ of us are really okay.  So we've got to stick together."

"It's just...I feel like it's  _my fault_ that I can't get over--"

Isabela pulled me back and lifted my chin so I could look up at her through my tears.  There was real pain in her gaze, memories dredged up and plainly out in the open.  But this time she could finally use them to do something good.  "Don't."

-

"...going go to Vimmark if we want to solve what in the Void is happening," I heard Hawke mutter from beyond the closed kitchen door.  I didn't think he realized that despite meaning to have private meetings and discussions there, the room wasn't all that soundproof.  

But at the mention of Vimmark, I was hooked.  I set my chunkster down on the ground--he didn't like me carrying him like a baby around the house, anyways--and leaned in close to the door so I could hear the conversation ensuing.

"It doesn't make any sense," I heard Carver say.  I hadn't seen his face since before I was taken to the Gallows, but knew that Hawke had punched him in the face when they learned what he did.  I wasn't too upset about it.  "Why would the Carta be after us?"  A pause.  "Did you do anything...?"

"No.  Not that I know of, at least.  But who knows?  Maybe somebody tired of having to look at my excessive handsomeness and couldn't bear my wit and charm and decided to have me killed.   _You_ on the other hand, I have no idea why they'd want to kill.  Did you piss someone off at the Blooming Rose?"

"I've never been there," Carver said, a bite edging his voice.

"Oh, I forgot.  The only one whose ass you like to kiss is Knight-Commander Meredith's."

"Hawke--"

 _"Enough,"_ Aveline cut in wearily but firmly.  "The two of you can bicker like old hens later.  We have--"

They all stopped when they heard a knock on the door.   _Who had knocked?_

Oh, right.  It was me.

_Why was I knocking?!_

After a few seconds of hearing the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, the entrance opened.  Hawke looked down at me, his hardened, almost tired expression replacing itself with a jovial and carefree one.  "Hello, Alaran Lavellan!  What can I do you for?"

My hand was barely just releasing from the balled-up clench it was in and lowering itself back to my side.  "Hello, Garrett Hawke," I said quietly.  It was now or never.  I could go all in, balls out, or I couldn't.  Either way...

There was more strength in my voice then there had been in the past five weeks.  It had already been over a month since my time being mutilated and violated.  And as much as I knew I wasn't healed, I still felt like I needed to do something with my life.  My "over-achieving" attitude about everything made sure that I was slowly suffering more and more each day.

"I want to go to Vimmark with you."

Hawke's smile slipped, and I felt a stillness in the kitchen even though I couldn't see anybody's expressions from the spot that I was in.  "W...what?" the Champion sputtered.

It felt good, stepping into my old shoes (I say that figuratively because I don't wear any) and reverting back to my days as the crack-down, stone-cold Speech and Debate President of my high school...who made sure that everybody got at least two cookies as refreshments because who in the hell just wants  _one_ cookie?  Also there was plenty of fruit punch.

But that was besides the point.

A split-second story formulated in my mind as I walked past Hawke and in front of everybody.  And I mean everybody.  They were all there.  It warmed the cockles of my heart to know that they cared for their hairy mage.  "I was in the Fade for six years.  Do you know what happens in the Fade?"

"You consort with demons?" Fenris prompted before he could stop himself.

"Yes, actually.  But not just that.  There's also lots of sacrificing spirit goats and dancing naked in the Fade moonlight."  The smirk I made myself have from the lame joke brought smiles to the faces of everybody else.  "But wait!  There's more!  There's also witnessing history via spirit-reenactment.  And you know what I saw?"

"Fenris dancing in his mansion?" asked Varric.

"Me getting booty of both kinds?" asked Isabela.

"When I first met Ser Pounce-A-Lot?" asked Anders.

"What?  No.  Though I should have."  I climbed up on the table and sat cross-legged, taking Anders' last orange slice he had on his plate.  

"Hey!"

I started peeling the outer layer so I wouldn't have to gnaw on it as I talked.  "I know what happened in Vimmark.  Why the Carta is after you.  Why they're cray-cray."

"Why?" Hawke asked, returning to his seat.  

"It...it has to do with your father, Malcolm," I replied, tilting my head and squinting my eyes slightly to make sure that I was remembering correctly.  It had been a couple years since I played the Legacy DLC.  I really, really hoped that I wasn't getting anything wrong.  Eh, if did I could just blame it on the Fade.  

I looked back and forth between Garrett and Carver. The latter averted his gaze guiltily.  "The Wardens used his magic to seal away an ancient darkspawn Tevinter Magister...yeah.  Yeah, that's what they had him do."

There were several incredulous expressions.  I continued on, reaching up and grabbing for Bubs when he whined about not being in my lap.  He didn't like being carried, oh no, but he just had to be as close to me as possible.  Not that I minded.  If I smelt like a dog all day, then slap my ass and call me a Fereldan because I loved this pupper.  "They never said his name," Lie. "But he looked pretty freaky."

"But why are we being attacked?" Hawke followed up.

 _Play the second-guessing, know-nothing role._ I told myself that I was acting, not lying.  "My guess is that your blood is needed to either unlock the magister's prison, or reinforce it.  They could probably ask nicely if they wanted to reinforce it, so I don't think it's the second."

"Ugh, your dog  _smells,"_ Varric groaned as he waved a hand in front of his nose.  

"Your nose starts to get numb the longer you smell it," I said, scratching Bubs' belly as he sprawled out on my lap.  "But back to my original point.  You can continue to fend off insane Carta attacks, or you can just go and take care of it before any of you are hurt."

"Me?  Hurt?" Hawke scoffed.  "Alaran, please."

"If you go, you'll find out more about your father."

"...Oh.  Right."

"My Fade senses are tingling, and they tell me that you should see this through."

Wait, was Corypheus the one Solas is going to give the Orb to?  

I really wished I had the prompting to change the future.  That would have been nice to have.  But all I felt was the slight burning from the citric acid of the orange I had just downed.  I doubted those two were the same thing.  

"Okay," Hawke said slowly, "but why do you want to come?"

"Because I want to see an ancient darkspawn Tevinter magister."  That was...that was basically the truth.  

"Are you sure you're ready for...that?" Aveline said as gently as she could without sounding insulting.  "You haven't technically fought anybody, and from the way you're making it sound, there will be fighting."

"I got to act out a lot of fighting scenes with my spirit friends."  The smile encompassing my mouth was now wry as I was taken back to good memories.  I needed to see them, again.  "I had a particular Spirit of War that loved playing  _Darkspawn and Grey Wardens_ with me.  Or  _Champion and Arishok."_ Hawke choked on his drink.  "Except the second one wasn't played as much because I was planning on going home then."  I looked up from Bubba's jiggly lips and met Aveline's mildly surprised but not affronted eyes.  "I'm pretty confident in my fighting skills."

_It still couldn't save you from the templars._

"There's such a thing as a Spirit of War?" Sebastian asked me dubiously.  "That sounds a little...demonic."

"Oh, no, if anything demons were scared of her.  But she really just liked talking about tactics and everything."

"You know, you've never really told us what went on in your time frolicking in dream world," Varric said.  His voice was nasally from plugging it, the stench of Bubs' secretions too much for him to bear since he was downwind.  

"Nope."

"If you think you're okay to come," Hawke said with a shrug, "I have no problems with it.  We're gonna have to get you a weapon, though."  He winked and pointed a finger at me.  "But I have plenty of dead bodies to loot so I can find you one."

"Thanks, Garrett."

Bubba jolted awake from a particularly loud fart.  The entire room groaned and evacuated the kitchen.

-

"You look like you're ready to kick ass and take names," Isabela commented as I descended the staircase in my new armor.  It was simple, since elves weren't typically suited to be warriors, but I liked it.  My leather vest was form-fitting and laced up at the sides, the tunic underneath protecting me from chafing.  All of the pauldrons found were too big, as well as the gauntlets, so I was given sturdy leather bracers and gloves.  I didn't want to wear boots that came all the way up to mid-thigh, but they were for my own protection.  I reluctantly obliged.  I couldn't wear my infamous hat; it wouldn't work well with the fighting I most likely was going to be doing.

My sword was great.  Pun wasn't initially intended, but after announcing that I decided that it was so.  I was pretty sure Hawke  _did_ in fact loot it off a dead body, but I didn't care.  It was composed of a dark steel and was probably rather plain to everybody else, but to me it was just dandy.  It fit on my back as if it was meant to be there.

"You sure you can handle that?" Aveline questioned as we headed out the doors.  I had already bid farewell to Bubs; it was a painful goodbye, but Sandal promised he would take good care of him.  "Not that I doubt your abilities, but you've been out-of-practice physically for over six years."

I casually flexed an arm.  All eyes went to the toned muscles that had almost magically appeared.  But it wasn't magic, it was just from working out.  After I got done being too miserable and broken to move, I started doing yoga.  Once yoga stopped being eventful, I moved onto other things.

"Maker's breath, where did those come from?" Anders exclaimed.  

"Blood magic.  It has to be," Sebastian said sardonically.  

"You guys are a bunch of sphincters, did you know that?"

"First we'd have to know what that is," Fenris said, striding up beside me.  

"It means you're assholes in simple terms, but I think I'm liking the word sphincter more and more."

"It has a nice touch to it," said Isabela, then drawled out the word.   _"Sphincter._ It sounds exotic."

There were several disgusted noises and faces the longer everybody thought about it.

I quickly hid my grin the moment Fenris cast me a sidelong glance.  "You should do that more," he said, loud enough just so I could hear.

"Only if you will," I shot back in a soft sing-song voice.  

He smiled ruefully but was silent.  

The journey to Vimmark took a few days, but I didn't mind.  I was allowed my own little space in the tent I shared with Aveline, Isabela, and Merrill that'd ensure I wouldn't be touched accidentally by them.  But I wasn't able to sleep, anyways.  I kept hearing noises outside, strange and foreign and frightening.  Before I knew it I found my heart racing as I lay frozen in my bedroll, staring up at the pitched roof of the tent.  What was this?  I hadn't ever been afraid, before, and I had friends between me and the entrance.

**_He's going to come for you._ **

The thought was so sudden and loud that it made me jolt out of my position and reach for the greatsword by my side.  My throat was tight with fear, creating short and rapid breaths.  I shouldn't have come, I shouldn't have come and this was all so stupid.  I thought I was going to be okay, that I could actually be  _of use,_ but I would just be a burden.  I should just get up and leave.

I did.  My feet quietly tip-toed over the sleeping figures now underneath me, and I brushed through the flaps of the tent in silence.  Starlight and a dim, low campfire greeted my vision.  

As well as a scruffy mage.

"Hello, Alaran," Hawke said, his voice alert but body worn.  "Did you know that your eyes glow in the night?  Like a kitty cat's."  His gaze moved down to the weapon in my hand.  Then it moved back up to me.  "Trouble sleeping?"

"I..."  My voice faltered.  There was no point in being the usual guarded self that I was; Hawke was my friend.  He should know what I was feeling.  "I sometimes think he's going to find me and...I don't know.  Do something terrible."

Hawke patted to the log beside him.  I glanced around for no reason before joining his side.  "Wanna talk about it?"

"No.  Yes."  I sighed and ran fingers through my hair.  It was going to need another trim, soon.  "I honestly don't know.  All this stuff I probably should get off my chest just  _won't_ come out.  I feel like I have to shove my finger down my throat to force it up."

"Well, do you want to give it a start?"

My head slowly shook.  "I already told Isabela some stuff.  I shouldn't have to really talk about it--"

"Alaran."

"...Fine, okay.  I just...I don't know where _to_ start."

"Start wherever you want."

I took a deep breath, preparing my thoughts as I inhaled and exhaled.  "I was...drugged, when it happened.  I could hardly move the whole time.  Sometimes I can still feel the...the pain."  My lips twisted into a grimace.  "I bit out his tongue, but I know he's alive.  I know he's still out there, and I know he wants to kill me."

"You know we won't let that happen.  That  _I_ won't let that happen."

"I do.  But the state that I'm in...that constant  _uncertainty_ I get whenever I round a corner in the street o-or something...it's maddening.  I don't want to be afraid, but I doubt I'll  _not_ be afraid for a long time."

We sat in silence, the two of us staring into the dying flames.  I was tempted to tell Hawke just who I was and where I actually came from, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.  It didn't feel like the right time.

But would there ever be a right time?

"So..." Hawke drawled.  "You played  _Champion and Arishok?"_

I sputtered out a laugh, the heaviness of the moment dissipating.  "Yeah.  I was the Arishok, most of the time, because War wasn't all that big..."

-

"There it is," Varric proclaimed, gesturing to the mountain keep.  

"It doesn't look all that dwarven," Carver said bluntly.

"These are Carta dwarves, so they're more criminals and smugglers than anything else," Varric explained as I looked around the desolate path, strewn with remains of carts, wagons, boxes, bottles, and...oh yeah, there were bones, too.  "Ready to get this over with?"

He spoke right on time.  A dwarf came into view, stopping himself and focusing solely on Garrett and Carver.

"You!  Both brothers!  You're here together!  You've come!" he cried gleefully.

"Look at his eyes," I muttered, feeling my back become unburdened with weight as I pulled my greatsword in front of me with both hands.  "They're Blighted, at least in some way."

"I was really, really hoping you were wrong," Anders said.

We were ignored by the dwarf.  "Everyone!  it's the children of Malcolm Hawke!  They've come to us!"

"Now, how could I refuse such a delightfully worded invitation?" Garrett asked, spreading his arms wide before reaching behind and unhooking his staff.  "Alaran?  What do you think?  Can they be saved?"

I wanted to say yes, to imagine a scenario where they would be able to spare lives.

But I had learned by now that the world was a far too real place for such hopes.  "It's us or them," I stated.  

"We must have the blood!  You don't understand!" the Carta dwarf cried.  

"I always hate when a conversation ends," Hawke sighed.  

"We will take it!  Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!"

"Corypheus!" I exclaimed to Hawke.  "That's his name!  I remember, now!"  Lie, lie,  _lie._

The attack was short-lived.  There was a spray of blood on my face as I cleaved into an archer who couldn't spin away fast enough.  I should have been sick at the sight of his bowels tumbling to my feet.  I should have felt  _something._ But I didn't.  Because I had survived too much to have my life ended now.  

In another swing I separated his head from his body.  Then I was onto the next, finishing off a rogue who had Isabela cornered by slicing up his back, exposing glistening white vertebrae for a second before it was flooded with blood.  The possessed Carta dwarf let out a strangled cry--until Isabela plunged a dagger through his eye socket.

We automatically paired up.  I distracted any enemy while she did the dirty work or vice versa.  Before we knew it any of the Carta who had attacked us were dead on the ground, the dirt soaking up their blood.   _"Dareth shiral, durgen'len,"_ I whispered under my breath.  As bad as they most likely were, they did not deserve to have their agency taken away from them.

"What was that, Al?" Varric questioned as we started moving, again.  

"Nothing," I replied, looking at the storyteller with a neutral expression.  "Let's keep moving."

Swiftly and efficiently we moved into the keep, going underground.  I made a face but nothing more.  It wasn't long after that we were approached by another possessed Carta member.  He ran excitedly up to us, practically yelling, "The Hawke's blood!  The Master will rise.  He will be free!"

Varric's eyes widened.  "Gerav?"

"Varric?" said the Carta dwarf.  "N-no one told me you would be part of this.  We were just going after the Hawke."

"I like how they refer to you as 'The Hawke.'  You should coin that," I commented.  Fenris scoffed.

"Really, Gerav?  I thought better of you than this," Varric outright complained.  "I mean, gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game.  But why are you all worshipping demons?"

"Ancient darkspawn magister, to be precise," I commented.  

"We drink the darkspawn blood," Gerav readily said.  "He calls us..."

"Ah, now I remember," I said.  "Corypheus controls everything tainted."

"Varric, you need to use your manners," Hawke chided.  "Introduce me to your lunatic friend."

"Hawke, this is Gerav.  He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug from the Carta.  Gerav, this is Hawke, the one whose blood you want to drink or bathe in or whatever.  But if you're after eternal youth, I've got to tell you, he's no virgin."

There was a collective chuckle among the group as Hawke pretended to look affronted.  

"The Master is calling," Gerav said, spreading his arms wide.  "He needs the blood."

"It's a good thing neither you or Carver are girls," Isabela smirked.  "Otherwise they'd just need--"

"Alright alright we get it," Hawke interrupted.  

"Gerav...buddy...This isn't like you."  Varric hoisted Bianca into his arms.  My eyebrow twitched upwards; why was he still trying to convince somebody whose will had been taken that everything was alright.  "Look.  I've still got Bianca, never misfired a day in her life.  You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?"

Ah.  So that was it.

"Varric?  You want to spare this bastard?" Hawke said, giving his friend a sidelong look.  

"Not if he's after you, Hawke."  Varric aimed his crossbow at Gerav.  "Bianca, I think it's time to say goodbye."  He fired a bolt, but the turd blossom threw down some of that invisibility stuff I really hated in the game because they'd sneak up--

In one motion I had my greatsword in my hands and was twisting my body to block the daggers coming down where my shoulders were moments ago.  The impact of Gerav's weight falling on my mine made my knees buckle, and the two of us toppled to the ground.  I snarled and shoved him off me with a reserve of strength I was unaware I had and rolled back to my feet, bringing my sword down on him.  Gerav rolled out of the way a second before impact.  "You are not of the blood," he growled.  "You are not of this world.  He..."  His face changed as if he was listening to something whispering to him.  "You are of use to him.  He could use your--"

I punched him in the throat, swift and brutal.  The impact crushed his windpipe.  Gerav gurgled and dropped his daggers to grasp at his neck, blood bubbling on his lips.  He didn't have long to suffer, though; my sword drove through his chest.  I took my boot and braced it against the dwarf's shoulder to yank it back out.  

My eyes darted around to see if anybody was close enough to hear what conversation had just occurred.  Fortunately, everybody was engaged in their own tussle far enough away that I didn't have to explain myself.

But Corypheus didn't just talk to Gerav.  The Carta that we were fighting turned their attention to me.  "Take her," they all muttered among themselves.

I slumped my shoulders and looked at all of the advancing foes with a  _why?_ expression.  "Uh, guys?" I called.  "A little help?"

Aid was quickly delivered to me, and through a combined effort we made short work of our assailants.  Aveline was the first to voice the question in everybody's mind.  "What did they want with you?"

I was starting to reconsider my choice of coming here.  "No idea," I lied effortlessly.  Technically speaking, I didn't.  Why would Corypheus want an Otherworlder?  And why did I even ask myself that?  Of course he would want me for some reason or other.  Hell, maybe he didn't even know.  He just wanted me to see if I could be of use.  "But can we move on?"

"Yes, lets," Anders said. "Meredith is probably burning mages at the stake now that Hawke's gone from Kirkwall."

I gave him a sidelong look as we put our weapons away.  As of late, the aura had been growing stronger and stronger around him, and I could feel the buzzing of the Fade whenever I neared.  It sent my stomach twisting in dread whenever I thought about what was going to happen, soon.  

 Varric crouched over Gerav and sighed.  "You poor, stupid bastard," he muttered, then gave an explanation.  "I used to do business with the Carta, back in the day.  Gerav was a nutcase then, too, but in a good way.  He was trying to design a new type of repeating crossbow.  Bianca was the only one that ever worked."  With the shake of his head, he stood up and faced us.  "I can't believe he ended up like that."

It was solely from the expression on Varric's face that I felt some semblance of remorse about killing Gerav.  Not enough to wholly affect me; he tried to kill me, so I killed him.  Simple as that.  But still...

We moved forward under the mountain, following what we assumed to be the most straightforward tunnel.  I didn't want my mind to wander to the possibility of Hawke and everybody finding out my true identity here, but it kept doing so whether I liked it or not.  I had to brace myself with the retaliation and repercussions I may or may not receive because of it; keeping the secret as long as I have may not sit well with them, especially those who weren't exactly fond of magic.

_They'll see you as a freak._

_They already see me as a freak.  But they're still my friends._

_A lying, deceitful excuse of a person is what they'll see._

It also posed another serious question.  I started off playing  _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ despite the fact that I wound up here.  Was my fate already set as taking up the mantle of...whatever it was?  Inquisitor?  If so, then would meeting Corypheus now somehow "step on a butterfly?"  I really hoped not, because I doubted anybody would be cool with me just stopping and telling them I was going to turn back.  No, I had invested myself in this already.  Hell, I was the one who  _gave_ Hawke answers before he even came here to find them.  I may have already stepped on a hundred butterflies.

My head was not full of happy thoughts for the next short while.

It was interrupted, thankfully, by even  _more_ possessed Carta thugs.  "Hawke," spoke one.  He looked to be in a position of command.  "They told me you were going to be trouble."  His sick, gray eyes moved over to Carver as he strode forward.  "And look, you brought the whole family.  How generous."  Then they landed on me.  "Very, very generous."

I rolled my eyes and forced myself to listen to him talk.  "I swore to Corypheus we'd bring him Malcolm Hawke's blood.  One way or another..."

"Corypheus wants some blood?" Hawke exclaimed sarcastically.  "Sure!  Let me just open a vein..."  He patted his sides as if he was forgetting something.  After a moment or two, his eyes lit up.  "Oh!  How about a kidney, too?"

But the dwarf had gone into full fanatic mode.  "Corypheus, we have done as you command!  Your sacrifice is here.  You will see the surface once more!"  The gates behind us closed off.  "Do not kill the one our master wants," came the instructions.  "He wishes to have her as his own."

Burning rage heated my face and body.  I was  _nobody's_ thing to have.  I didn't care if it was some young prick nobleman or a dusty darkspawn magister: no one was going to take my body without my consent.

I dove into action, able to cut down the Carta present with some ease due to their incapability to kill me.  Sure, there was some maiming attempted, but I killed them before they could do anything.  With all of us against them, we came out of battle victorious within a couple of minutes.  

Hawke kicked over the leader with his foot so that the corpse was lying on his back.  A pale purple and blue glow emitted from the stave clutched in the dwarf's grip.  "What the--" Hawke breathed.  Instead of being off-put by it and, you know, not touching the thing...

He touched the thing.

Immediately there was a reaction.  Hawke let out a strangled cry and stumbled backwards.  His body became riddled with the same glow.  "What is this?  I can feel it...inside me," he cried, preparing to throw the staff back down.  But just as soon as it had begun, it ended.

"It was your father's staff," I stated.  "It will take you to Corypheus."

Hawke's eyes caught onto two Carta dwarves running to the passage beyond.  He lunged into a sprint and took off after them.  The rest of us swiftly followed behind.  Wait, why were they leading us away--

As soon as we descended a staircase a magical barrier cut us off from going back.  Oh.  Yeah, forgot about that.  "Those sons of bitches..." Varric partially growled.  "The whole blasted thing's sealed over."

"I'm sure there's another way out," Hawke said, then looked to me.  "Right?"

I shrugged my shoulders.  "I don't know.  Probably."

"Quite helpful, that," Sebastian said dryly.  I shot him a half-assed glare.  

"Oh, you want me to be more specific?  Fine."  I straightened up and looked directly at Hawke.  "Yes, I'm almost positive there's another way out.  But we'll have to go through darkspawn and most likely face Corypheus himself.  Are you ready for that?"

It was his turn to shrug.  "I don't know.  Probably."

My glare turned full-assed.  

-

"Would you look at that!" I declared as we came upon darkspawn feeding on the dwarves who lured us in.  "I was right!"

The nearest genlock hurtled itself into my direction.  I dodged its poisonous swings until there was a clear opening for me to pierce its flesh with my blade.  Its blood stank of decay and rot and inhumanity.  I made sure that my mouth was closed so I wouldn't swallow anything.  Despite magic not working on me, I didn't want to put the taint not working on me to the test.

When all the darkspawn were dead and we were cleared of any injuries, Hawke did some magey stuff and let loose a few shades that we also had to kill, as well as the Fade-echo of Malcolm Hawke.  It was all very uninteresting, and when I was asked about it I just waved Hawke off and said, "It's the key, or whatever."

Things  _did_ get interesting when we came into an open courtyard, most of it in ruins.  I watched with a tilted head as the former Warden-Commander popped his head up from behind a fallen pillar and loped unevenly forward, rasping, "They key!  Did they find it?  The dwarves?  I heard them...looking...digging...How do you bring the key here?"

"We're looking for Corypheus.  Do you know where he is?"

I snorted.  "Probably at the magister spa, or something," I mumbled under my breath.

Anders shushed me.  I frowned at him.  "I remember when you used to be fun," I whispered as the other conversation was ensuing. 

"How can I be  _fun_ when the fate of the mages are in peril?"

I was no longer looking at Anders.  I was looking at his aura, Justice's aura.  "Who are you?"  My whisper had become barely audible.  

"What?"

"I doubt you even know the answer to that question anymore, do you?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but found that he could not.  "No, you don't," I continued to say.  "So until you figure that out, let me make snide remarks and make myself laugh."

"...don't think we're getting any help here, Hawke," Varric's voice drifted in.  The two of us turned our heads away from each other and listened to the conversation.  

"Hawke?  You are the blood of the Hawke?  Yes.  I smell the magic on you...But you hold the key!  The key to his death...Yes, I can show you out, yes."

"Who are you?" Hawke asked.  "What's wrong with you?" 

"You ask me that?  I am the one who belongs here, not you.  You are no darkspawn."

"His name is Larius," I interrupted.  "Former Warden-Commander, I believe.  And isn't it obvious?  He's had his Calling."

Larius' clouded eyes roved over to me for the first time since we encountered.  "They want you because they don't know what you are," he said at the same time it looked like he was listening to something.  "Be careful.  They will try to take you as a broodmother.  What powerful children they think you will have, too."

My mouth went dry, but I blinked and kept speaking.  "He knows the way out.  He can take us where we need to go."

"Down and in, down and in..."

Hawke huffed.  "Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted, crazy people..."

"Not crazy, no.  Trust me.  I know the prison's secrets," Larius rasped with a faint, unstable smile.  He then looked about the courtyard.  "The seals hold us in.  Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves.  Not without the key.  You must use it, yes.  On the seals.  Every seal, you touch the key to it.  Only then they open.  Only for the Hawke.  Not back.  Not up.  Only way out is down and through the heart.  Down..."  He started to turn and hobble away.  "Down in the depths..."

"So, do we listen to the nice madman," Isabela drawled, breaking the freaky vibe, "or are we setting up camp?"

-

As we settled in for the night, Fenris found me sitting with my back against a fallen pillar.  Wordlessly, he took up a seat by my side and offered me an apple.  I begrudgingly smirked and took it, tasting the combination of sweetness and tartness as I bit into the fruit.  When I finished he procured another.  I chuckled that time and held out my hand for him to give it to me.  "Thanks, Fenris," I said.  "You're a--"

"Why would the darkspawn and Carta want you?"

"...Pal."  I sighed and started eating the second apple.  "And I have no idea, honestly."

Fenris stared silently at me.  My eyebrow raised.  "Can you even see through those shaggy bangs of yours?  Or are you just guessing at where people are at?"

"Alaran."

"I don't know, Fenris.  I really don't.  It could have something to do with my immunity to magic, or even that I spent six years in the Fade, but I'm not certain."

"Whatever it is, we want you..."  I eyed him and he frowned before correcting himself.  "I want you to stay back when we encounter anything.  Bringing you here was a mistake--"

"Shut the fuck up, Fenris," I snapped, and pushed myself up to my feet.  "Leave me alone."

"You are going to ignore a serious reality?"

"No, I'm going to  _fight_ this serious reality.  Because I'm not helpless."  

_I was helpless when I was strung up and raped.  Never again._

Fenris saw what I was thinking on my visage.  He let his anger slip away and bowed his head.  "I...I am sorry."

My shoulders relaxed an inch, and I slowly sat back down.  "Okay.  Why don't you  _try_ to express yourself using actual vocabulary? You're usually good at it."

"It is easier said than done," Fenris wryly smirked.  I tucked my knees under my chin and waited, watching as he took a breath and readied himself for what he was to say next.  "I...care about you.  We all do.  To see you put yourself in harm's way is, well,  _hypocritical,_ yes, but nevertheless worrying.  We lost you once before already; I doubt we'd like having to go through that again."

"I know," I replied quietly.  "I can understand that.  But I'm not who I used to be, which means I'm still trying to figure myself out.  So please, just bear with me.  But I promise that I'll try to be safe."  I smirked and took another bite of my apple.  "You're cute when you're concerned."

"Ha, ha."

"Oh, and Fenris?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I told you to shut the fuck up."

"Don't be.  I...deserved it."

"You kind of did.  But I'm still sorry."

"And I forgive you."

-

There was a surprise waiting for us.  Guess what it was?

A genlock alpha!

And guess what else it had? 

A shield!

Wanna know what it did with that shield?

It hit me with it!

And it hurt like a bitch.

I landed hard on the ground, the back of my head shooting with pain as it cracked against the floor.  I grimaced, teeth gritting together and groaning lowly in the back of my throat.  My eyes flew wide open as I felt a giant hand grip me by the waist and hoist me into the air.  I grappled for the greatsword only a foot away, but I was too late.  The genlock had me, and was suddenly uninterested in everybody else attacking it.  The darkspawn began retreating with me kicking and desperately trying to get free.  "Alaran!" Varric yelled, shooting bolts in rapid succession at the genlock.  But they and Sebastian's arrows were deflected by the giant shield it had.

Before anybody else could get close enough, Merrill produced a knife and sliced her palm with it.  "You will not have her!" she bellowed as her blood scrawled the air for a mere moment and turning the very air itself into something buzzing with magic.  Then it turned into a shadowy force, aimed at the genlock.  In one swift, brutal motion Merrill cast it forward.  The force hit the genlock's back, and I heard the distinct  _crack_ of a spine breaking.  It fell to the ground--its unholy noises nearly deafening--and let loose of me.

I scrambled away, grabbing a hefty rock nearby and raising it with both hands.  With a roar I brought it down on the darkspawn's head, crushing through its helmet and skull.  Again and again and again I repeated the motion, using the strength I surprised myself with earlier, until the head was nothing more than pulp and spattered brain matter.  

 _Th_ e _y would **not** take me._

When I dropped the bloody rock and looked up at everybody else, I was partially frightened to see them staring at me with horror.  But despite some minor widened eyes, all I saw was relief.  

Merrill was the first one to run forward.  I stepped over the darkspawn corpse to meet her.  "Creators!  Are you alright?" she breathed.  I patted my ribs and waist.  They were sore, but I was almost positive nothing was broken.  

"Yeah.  Yeah, I'm fine," I replied.  "Just...just give me a minute, would ya?"  I then sunk to my knees and laid flat out on my back, gulping in the dank air.  I then made a loud, dying animal noise.

"Maferath's hairy arse, Al," Varric said as he and everybody else came to surround where I lay.  "You really shouldn't do that again.  All that stuff?  Pretty terrifying."

"Oh, I'm sorry I frightened you, Varric," I said with as much sarcasm I could muster, blinking away the red spots in my eyes.  "I'll really try not do that again.  When another genlock just comes up and grabs me I'll firmly tell them darkspawn no darkspawning!"

"Now you're just making me sound like a jackass."

"I'm so sorry, that was never my intention."

"How does your head feel?" Aveline asked, crouching beside me.

I patted my forehead and scalp.  "Round."

Varric shook his head.  "Aveline, she's fine."

"Did I piss my pants?"

All eyes went down to my crotch.  There were simultaneous "no's."

I breathed a sigh of relief.  "Okay.  Good."

"So are you going to lay there all day or are we to keep moving?" Anders said with a hint of sourness.  I beckoned him close.  He took the bait and leaned in.  "What is it--"

My hand lightly slapped his cheek.  "How dare you," I whispered with mock-betrayal.  "You tell me how you feel when you're being hauled off by a genlock alpha to be transformed into a million-boobied broodmother.  Until then, shut your face."

-

The ominous rumble set the cue for Larius' approach.  "He feels the seals weaken," he grunted as he struggled to make his feet carry him.  "He knows you are close.  You must be ready..."  His head then jerked over his shoulder.  "What's that?  Who?  No...no.  They're here."

"Who is "they?" The Carta?" Hawke asked. 

Larius shook his head.  "No.  Worse.  More treacherous, more dangerous," he replied.  "The Wardens.  They listen to Corypheus.  They want to bring him in the light.  Stop them.  You must stop them."  He started to recede.

Just as the dying Warden vanished from view, others came around the corners.  "Something's happening.  The prison's breaking down.  But it's stood up to tunneling before.  What can--"  They all stopped, none of their eyes going to any of us or even Hawke, but to the staff in his grasp.  "You!  You have the key!  And you've come through the seals.  But how?"  Then the leader finally moved her gaze to Garrett.  "Champion?  Are you the one?  The same Hawke, child of Malcolm?  The Carta said they were close.  You must be him.  I am Janeka.  I lead this unit of Grey Wardens."

"Garrett Hawke.  I take it you are the one who has special interest in my blood and organs?"

"Without your father, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago," Janeka said.  

"Yes, yes, I know.  I'm pretty caught-up, believe it or not."  Hawke's sarcastic demeanor vanished, replaced with a brewing danger.  "So tell me why you want to release evil into the world?"

"We  need your help, Hawke.  I have done extensive research on this darkspawn and I believe the original Wardens were wrong."  A fanatic fire sparked in Janeka's eyes, sending a thousand alarms off in my head.  "He isn't a threat to humanity--he's our greatest opportunity.  A darkspawn who can talk, feel, reason..."

"Corypheus cares nothing for Blights.  He used you!" spat Larius, coming out from his hiding spot.  

"The Warden-Commander!" one of the men exclaimed softly.  

"Don't listen to this...creature," Janeka growled.  "He's half darkspawn himself.   _I_ know how to harness Corypheus, use his magic to end the Blights."

"No," Larius argued.  "The Wardens knew.  Corypheus is too powerful."

"I don't believe father would have wanted this," Carver mentioned.  

"Worth the risk," Varric said nonchalantly.  "If he doesn't help, it's one more big darkspawn to stick a bolt in.  No big deal."

"It is a big deal, though," I said.  "You forget that Corypheus is dangerous not because he's tainted with the Blight. He  _is_ the Blight. He can control anything and everything with it in their system."  My ears flattened against my skull. "Wardens included."

"And what would you know,  _elf,"_ Janeka sneered at me.  I smirked in return and gave a quick response.

"Enough."

Fenris snorted quietly.  

"Well I'd rather outright kill Corypheus than leave him here," Isabela said idly as she twirled a piece of her black hair.  

"Corypheus calls her, and she listens.  She brought him the Carta, sent them for you," Larius spouted.  

"I needed you, Hawke," Janeka defended.  

"And I would hope that you could tell me why would this darkspawn want to end the Blight?" Hawke followed up, but it looked as if he had already made his decision.  

"He wouldn't," I said.  Janeka looked at me as if she wouldn't mind driving a blade into my chest herself.

"Corypheus is no mindless monster.  This search for the Old Gods comes at a terrible cost to his people," replied the Warden.

"He tricked you.  These are not your thoughts, they are his Calling," Larius said angrily.  

Janeka promptly ignored him.  "How many of them died in Ferelden alone?  And that was the least of the Blights."

"Coryphe-ass  _is_ the Blight. I thought I already made that clear," I said, narrowing my eyes at Janeka.  Her lip curled at me.

"Heh, good one," Hawke chuckled.

"Thank you."

His expression grew resolute.  "Corypheus may be as great a threat as the next Blight."  Oh, he had no idea what was coming.  "I don't think freeing him is the smartest idea.  Actually, it  _isn't_ a smart idea.  It's downright horrible."

"We'll find a way to do this without you, Hawke," Janeka said brusquely, and began to move away.  "This prison will be broken.  The Blights will end.  Come!"  

Before Hawke or any of us could follow, she summoned a wall of fire to block us off.  "With me," Larius said.  "We will beat them to the seal."

-

When we met Janeka again we were thoroughly pissed.  She was leaning against the wall as if she was there for fifteen minutes and not just arriving like five seconds before we did.  I rolled my eyes.  She had  _such_ a lack of concept for the dramatic arts.  I might have been willing to give her a few pointers, had I not wanted to rip her throat out.  "Did you really think those old wards would stop me?"  Janeka walked forward confidently.  "Look at you," she said to Larius, "barely able to string two thoughts together.  You've only made it this far because of Hawke."

I felt bad for the former Warden-Commander.  Despite the Calling raging through his system, he still cared for his fellow Grey Wardens.  He didn't want to see them fall.  "You can still turn away," Larius pleaded.  "Do not listen to his voice!"

But Janeka would not be reasoned with.  "You're a fool, Larius, and you should have died here years ago."

Then she freaking summoned Kel-Sarag.  Or whatever it was called.  Facing off against us, however, made the battle short work.  But Hawke wouldn't let us catch our breath; before the creature could completely hit the ground we were off running again.  I couldn't help but suck in the cold mountain air with pleasure as we came out onto an outside passage of Vimmark.  "The stars are so pretty," I commented to nobody in particular.  

"Silentir is particularly bright," Sebastian said back as we jogged, his electric blue eyes shining in the starlight.  I glanced at him.  

"You do know what Silentir represents, right?"

"Er, no.  Am I supposed to?"

"It's attributed to Dumat, the Old God of Silence.  And you know who worships Dumat?"

"Let me take a gander," Hawke said, joining in on the conversation.  "Corypheus?"

"Right you are, Garrett Hawke.  Right you are."  I continued to gaze up at the constellation.  "Very ironic, don't you think?"

"I'd rather not think about it, if you don't mind," Aveline said gruffly.  

I ignored her.  "Dumat was the first Old God to be turned into an Archdemon, setting off the First Blight.  But there were several arguments in the Fade saying that _he_ was actually the one to create darkspawn and make an assault on Thedas.  He was also claimed by Archon Thalsian to teach him blood magic.  So there's that.  And the celebration of All Souls Day was originally intended to worship Dumat."  My light tone slipped as I remembered one of my journeys with Wisdom and a few other spirits.  "The temple, even in the Fade, was...not right.  I didn't stay long.  But I do remember a text inscribed...well, it wasn't exactly  _written;_ I felt the words as eons of memory sank into my skin."  When nobody went to stop me, I cleared my throat and recited:

 _"Look upon the Temple of Dumat_  
_God of Silence, who speaks to the faithful in dreams_  
_No words of desire may sway His will_  
_No cry of valor may stand against Him_  
_For His Silence conquers all_  
_And His Secrets are shared only with the worthy_  
_Look upon the Temple of Dumat_  
_And fear Him. _"__

I shook my head.  "He was not a happy god.  But there are some who still say that he continues to exist."

"Impossible," Sebastian said gravely.  "The Wardens destroyed him."

"Maybe they destroyed just his physical form.  But I take it like this: spirits or demons don't exactly die when we think we kill them.  They just manifest themselves again, over time.  It can be anything from a Spirit of Purpose to a wisp.  So what's stopping an Old God from doing the exact same thing?"

"The Maker?" Aveline prompted.  

"He could.  But in Chantry history, the Maker only imprisoned him.  Why?  Who knows.  I don't believe Dumat was an actual god; he was just a spectacularly powerful mage who knew how to harness the rawest magics, and was worshiped because of it.  But somebody who has such a truly strong connection to the Fade would probably use it to his advantage to reform there after several ages."

"Kids, could you lighten up a little?" Varric said with a slightly raised voice.  "Did you learn anything  _cheerful_ in the Fade, Al?"

"Plenty.  But I wouldn't want to ruin the mood."

The conversation would have went on, but we were interrupted once again by Janeka.  Man, she  _really_ didn't know how to pull off a dramatic entrance.  "You're too late, Larius.  Hand over Hawke, and I'll give you a quick death."

"Hawke has made his choice," Larius responded fiercely.  "The right one."

"The right choice, or the only choice?  Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree."

"It is the past.  It doesn't matter!"

Oh.  Right.  I probably should have mentioned that minor detail beforehand.

"Larius," Hawke said slowly, "what does Janeka mean by "not allowed?""

"How does she know this?  Alec, did you tell her?" Larius asked before he answered.  He then turned and walked away a few feet as he spoke.  "Malcolm Hawke was reluctant, had to be...persuaded.  I was Warden-Commander.  It was my duty.  I delivered an ultimatum--help us, or you'll never see her again."

"You did what?" Carver repeated incredulously.

"You were going to  _kill_ our mother?"  Hawke sounded less-than-pleased.

Larius turned back to face us.  "No, never!  He came with us.  I never had to decide her fate.  She was never told about what passed between Malcolm and me."

Carver said angrily, "That doesn't excuse it!"

"You see, Hawke?  How can you trust anything Larius says?" Janeka said with a malicious smile.  

I swung my head over to Hawke the same time he swung his head over to me.  He raised his eyebrow.  I raised mine.  He tilted his chin.  I tilted mine.

Then he looked back at Janeka.  "Larius' threats were reprehensible, yes, but he's still right about Corypheus."

"You can come willingly or not, Hawke," she said icily.  "I Just need your blood."

"Aaand now she's going to fight us," I announced.

"Very observant, Alaran, very observant," Anders said as the battle begun.  I didn't make any exact kills, but I did block a few blows so the others could finish them off.  Once Janeka's front line was cut down, she was hardly a match.  Combined with Hawke's, Merrill's, and Anders' magic, her barrier shattered after a few well-placed shots.  When it fell, Carver swooped in and separated her head from her shoulders.  There was a fountain of blood as the Warden's body collapsed to the ground.  

Fenris saw the look on my face.  "Go ahead," he sighed witheringly.  "Say what you must."

"Janeka must be feeling a little  _light headed,_ huh?"

It got a laugh from Merrill, so I was happy.

The humor of the joke didn't last long as we approached the prison of Corypheus.  "He stirs," Larius said solemnly.  "Slay him, now, before he wakes.  Before his strength comes."  He gestured to the staff.  "The key.  It's not strong enough.  Use your blood.  Free him and slay him."

"Might I mention that you need to free him so he  _doesn't_ get enough strength to awake on his own," I said, clearing up any misconceptions.  Larius nodded in my direction.

"Thank you, my lady."

I gave him a small smile.  

We watched as Hawke stepped up and took his glove off to cut into his palm.  I didn't understand why he couldn't be more practical and, like, slice his thumb or finger or something, but I let it go.  He could just heal himself, anyways.

As soon as blood dropped onto the stonework the ground flared to life.  Hawke released the key into the stream of golden air in the center of the altar.  I was already behind him and yanking on his armor to pull him from the blast that would occur.  We missed the most of it, but I was still pushed off-balance with the released force.  As we regained our footing, we looked as the awakened magister sprung from the ground.  Now there was a guy who knew how to make a dramatic entrance.  He twirled and spun and everything. I would have been impressed, had I not been so utterly  _terrified._ A trembling coursed through my very bones. 

"Be this some dream I wake from?  Am I in dwarven lands?  Why seem their roads so empty?" Corypheus asked aloud as he took in his surroundings.  His half-blighted gaze landed on Hawke.  "You!  Serve you at the temple of Dumat?  Bring me hence!  I must speak with the first acolyte!"  

"He speaks of the Old Gods," Larius whispered.  "The Imperium."

"You are no man.  Do you belong to the Empire?  Or be you of dwarven blood?  How come you here?"

"Who's he talking to?" I hissed.

"Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter.  On your knees!  All of you!"

"The Free Marches haven't been part of the Imperium for six hundred years," Hawke stated evenly.  

"You are what held me," Corypheus said, eyes hardening.  "I smell the blood in you."  He looked around once more before wandering to the side of the altar and proclaiming, "Dumat!  Lord!  Tell me.  What waking dream is this?"  His clawed, inhuman hands lowered.  "The light.  We sought the golden light.  You offered...the power of the gods themselves.  But it was...black...corrupt.  Darkness...ever since.  How long?"  His last two words were a snarl, desperate and unwilling to accept what was around him.

"The Golden City," I said.  "He's talking about the Golden City."

"The first violation," Larius added.  "The magisters who brought the Blight."

"He tainted the world," I finished.  "As a result, he speaks to all who carry the corruption.  Darkspawn.  Wardens.  He brought Janeka here.  Brought you..."  My eyes shifted to Anders.  A rock plummeted to the bottom of my stomach.

"He seems confused," Hawke said, gesturing to the magister standing numbly a ways away.  

"He knows nothing of time that passed," Larius answered.  "He could not wake, while the seals held.  We must kill him now.  Before he comes to."

"Well, you know I'd just love having "Killing a Magister Who Went to the Black City" on my repertoire," Hawke managed to chuckle.  

Upon hearing the words "Black City," Corypheus came back to reality.  "The city!" he shouted.  "It was supposed to be golden!  It was supposed to be ours!"

Then he started to float.  It was a nice touch.  "If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you!  I seek the light!"

Anders didn't see me coming at him with the hilt of my sword. I pounded it into the back of his head, immediately knocking him unconscious. My name was cried from multiple mouths.

"He was a Warden! He could become a puppet!" I shifted and got into a fighting stance. My teeth ground together.  "Destroy the altars!" I shouted, pointing to the pillars where Corypheus was gathering his magical funnel of fire.  "Do that, and--"

I screamed as I was encased in a barrier prison.  Though magic didn't work on me, it worked  _around_ me, unfortunately, so I could do nothing as I was trapped in a cylinder too tall for me to climb out of.  "I will have your soul, Impersonator," Corypheus said in my direction.  "You will be my ultimate sacrifice to Dumat!  Your blood will bathe the temple and raise it anew!  He will hear your Silence!"

"You're gross!" I screamed, pounding my fists against the prison.  "Let--me--outta--here!"

"Hang on, Alaran!" Hawke yelled over the flame and battle.  "We're coming for you!"

"No!  Just get Anders out of the way!"  The prison shrunk until I could do nothing except wiggle my fingers and toes and thrash my head like I was in a heavy metal band.  "Why do you want me?" I cried out to Corypheus.

"I can sense Her on you just like the taint," he seethed.  "The rival of Dumat himself!  To sacrifice you to him would bring me glory beyond comprehension!"

"Who are you going on about?"  I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat as my claustrophobia threatened to consume me.  Corypheus never gave me an answer, for he was too busy fighting everybody else as I was stuck in a freaking straw.  I had to wait and watch as the pillars were destroyed and feel the force of the fire as it swept over my miniature prison.  As soon as they were all torn down, the real battle began with Corypheus.  For such large numbers, everybody worked great as a cohesive team.  In the end, though, it was Hawke who killed him with his own magic.  I knew Corypheus was dead when the barrier around me vanished.  I fell on all fours as my body went through a fit of coughing.  

Fenris was the first to my side.  He helped me up, putting my arm over his shoulder and letting me lean my weight into him.  "Care to explain?" he questioned as we made it back to where everybody else was catching their breath.  Anders was coming to.  His hair was matted in the back from the blow I dealt him.  Merrill was tending to the mage, softly speaking words I couldn't pick up.  

It took a while for me to answer.  I was still gathering my bearings.  "I would, but I don't even know  _what_ to explain.  I have no idea why I was wanted."  Who had Corypheus been talking about?

"You are safe.  As far as I'm concerned, that is all that matters."

"You're going soft, Fenris."

"Don't remind me."

I collapsed on the ground next to Anders, putting a hand on his feathery shoulder to make sure he was okay.  "I'm sorry," I apologized in a breathy pant. "I just...I knew something bad was going to happen if Corypheus sensed you were a Warden.  We wouldn't have been able to fight you."

Light brown eyes glared at me for a second before the frustration dissipated.  "Good thinking," Anders said, wincing as Merrill moved her hands to his wound to heal it.  For some reason, his simple praise lifted me up a bit.

Larius met us on the bridge.  "You did well, Hawke," he said.  "More than the Grey Wardens of old were able to accomplish.  I will tell the Warden-Commander of your service here."

_This wasn't over._

"Be careful," I said.  "Wardens don't usually come back from the Calling."

"I must try."  Larius sounded firm and resolute and not him.  "You have gained an ally here, today."

"Why are you talking like that?" Hawke asked warily.  

"My head is clear, now.  Without Corypheus' call, I can think again."  He smiled faintly.  "I thank you for my freedom."

_So this is how he escaped._

My fingers twitched to grab my greatsword and end Larius' possessed life.  He was a man who had helped us where none other would; he did not deserve such a fate.  But that was all I could manage to do; let my fingers twitch.  There was a force--most likely the weaving of fate or whatever bullshit I didn't want to think about at the moment--holding me back, almost tangibly restraining me.  Finally, I gave in.   _I know one more thing about him the others don't.  This will be useful in the future,_ I told myself.  It still didn't get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth.

"You had best be careful," Hawke instructed.

"Janeka disobeyed the Warden-Commander when she sought to free Corypheus," Larius assured.  "They'll be relieved she's gone."  His gaze turned to me, and he  _gloated._ "The prison stands no more.  My gratitude you have, for my freedom."

I had to watch him walk away.

As we made our way back to Kirkwall, leaving Vimmark behind us, all I could think about was the destruction that would be wrought by Corypheus when he had Solas' Orb.  Because as surely as I felt fabric of the Universe holding me back, I knew that my poor, beloved, deluded elf would try to use Corypheus as a shortcut to unlocking the foci's power.

The results would be world-changing.  

For better or for worse, I did not know.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ar ju'shira'eth, ma falon" - I will travel safely, my friend (Or at least in choppy elven like I'm so sorry if I butchered it)
> 
> Man, I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I had to figure out where I wanted to go next, and just what all would go down. But Al met Corypheus! It's going to be pretty, uh, pretty awkward when they meet again. 
> 
> Goodnight, Nightvale--er, I mean lovelies--goodnight.


	16. Some Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain cameo and a bad day.

Bubs trotted beside me as I shopped for food in the Hightown Bazaar.  My hat shielded most of my face from the templars occupying the area, but I kept my head down for good measure, focusing as best I could on the fruits, vegetables, and other assortments of ingredients in front of me.  A medium-sized basket was perched on my hipbone, carrying everything I bought.  Hawke, as great as he was, didn't really know how to cook.  Once I gained the capability of going outside by myself--and by that I mean with Bubba loyally by my side--I took up the habit of getting things to prepare meals with.

I placed coins in one of the vendor's palm and gathered the plump, vibrant yellow squashes, placing them in the basket for safekeeping.  That was one thing I liked about living in Thedas, despite all of its awfulness: I got to grocery shopping in a marketplace with a  _basket._ It was better than any renaissance fair or a LARPing festival.  Ah, the little things.

"...for that price I might as well buy garbage and call it a delicacy!" drifted an angry, snobby voice into my ears.  I tilted my head up enough to see where the source of the ruckus was coming from.  Bubs huffed irritably.  He was just as displeased as I was feeling.

A man dressed in immaculate clothing with an accompanying mustache was arguing with a merchant, exaggeratedly using his arms and hands to gesture at the products.  The seller looked completely done with this noble douche canoe's crap, and had his arms folded and eyes glazed over until it was sane enough to join reality again.  

I looked down at Bubberston, raising an eyebrow.  "What do you think?  Should we intervene?"

He shrugged his Mabari shrug.  I huffed a short breath and strode to the source of all the ruckus.  Hopefully I could calm him down before the templars thought to intervene and probably take him off to be dropped at the bottom of the Waking Sea.

I tapped on the man's shoulder, choosing to touch the one that was covered with fabric and not sleeveless.  Man, what an a-hole.  And from the slight tug of the Fade I felt around him, I knew he was a mage.  To be causing such a scene with disregard for the danger posted near every entrance and stairway made me dislike him even more.  "...Believe the quality here--"  He turned around sharply to me.   _"What?"_ he asked testily, eyes going to the pointed ears brushing against the rim of my hat instead of, say, my amazing eyes or intricate tattoo or something like that.

"Excuse me, ser, but you're kind of causing a scene," I said calmly.  He scoffed loudly.  

"Of course I am!  Who else will do it if not I?  Look!  Look at the quality!  It's atrocious!"  He held a wilting head of lettuce inches from my nose.

Wait.  

Wait a second.

This was...This dollop of jackass was...

_A freaking future member of the Inquisition._

I took the lettuce out of his grasp and examined the browning edges.  "You  _do_ know that Kirkwall is on the brink of collapse, right?"

His mustache practically bristled at the question.  "I'm not stupid--"

"No?  Then you'll forgive us when we don't have the best lettuce for you to wipe your ass with," I interrupted with a smile, venom in my voice.  Bubs grunted to back me up.   _What was his **name?**_

"I beg your pardon?"

"Look, I honestly don't know why you're out here.  Obviously you're nobility, with your  _horrendously_ shiny buckles and such, so shouldn't one of your servants be making a fuss out of the quality of this lettuce?"  I placed it back where it belonged and gave a nod to the merchant, who I regularly bought produce from.  His shoulders slumped with relief.  

"Ha!  I don't know who  _you_ are, but I doubt you know who I am."  He looked down at me with a scowl.

I smirked.  "Oh, really?  You want to put that to the test?"

"Listen here, you servant-cretin," he spat, "I--"

"Servant-cretin?  Seriously?  Where are you from, Orlais?  Tevinter?"  The look on his face when I mentioned the latter nation made my mouth set into a grim smile.  "Ah.  You're a Vint.  You wanna know how we deal with Vints here in Kirkwall?"

Bubs growled menacingly, hackles raised.  

"Is there a problem, here?" a new voice asked.  I whipped my head around to the gleaming templar in armor, muscles tensing as I prepared to bolt.

But it was only Carver.  

I let out a taught sigh of relief. "Don't scare me like that."  It came out more bitingly than I intended.

His face turned into crestfallen guilt.  "Sorry, Alaran.  I-I didn't mean to scare you..."

I waved him off then patted Bubs' thick head, reassuring my dog that he didn't need to rip anybody's throat out.  "It's fine.  I was just trying to deal with this guy over here.  He overreacted to the quality of a lettuce."

The Tevinter was stormy as he answered the polite questions Carver asked him, occasionally twirling his mustache and rolling his eyes.  It was when Carver's actual templar senses kicked in that I knew to get the mage I had just been yelling at moments ago out of there.

Looping my arm around his and feeling all of the useless straps he had on, I said to Carver, "I'm just going to take him to Aveline so he can file a formal complaint.  Does that sound good?"

"No, it most certainly--"  The man I was so obviously trying to rescue began to say.  He was cut off short as Bubba took the liberty of nipping him in the heel.  "Ow!  Did your damn dog just...?"

Carver gave me a skeptical look.  "You sure, Alaran?  I can handle it, if you'd like."

"Oh, no, you have much more important things to do," I said airily, refraining from striking him with a passive aggressive blow or seven.  With one grip still on my basket and the other on the Tevinter, I hauled him away from Carver's and the other templar's sight and around the corner to a calmer part of Hightown.  The second there were no eyes on us I ripped free and punched him on the arm.  

"Are you messed up in the head?" I hissed, pushing my hat off so it rested on my back.  "You could have just got your ass hauled off to the Gallows!  Have you even  _heard_ of some of the things Meredith is doing to the mages?"   _You don't even have to be a mage, these days._

He sniffed.  "I find it highly unlikely that they would imprison a magister's son.  And how did you know I was a mage?  Are you one?"

"No, fortunately."   _Not fortunate enough._  His eyes were finally looking at the entirety of me, from the simple yet well-made clothes to Mythal's  _vallaslin_ to the scar on my neck.  "I just know a mage when I see one."  I ran fingers through my hair and took a deep breath.  "Look, I...we got off to a bad start."   _Probably shouldn't be pissing off one of the members of the soon-to-be Inquisition.  Maybe in five years he wouldn't be such a dillhole._ I held out my hand.  After a moment of inspecting it, he took the liberty of shaking it twice with his own.  "I'm Alaran.  Alaran Lavellan.  And you are?"

"Dorian of House Pavus."

Bubs barked, mad that he wasn't introduced.  I scratched behind his ear.  "Sorry, man.  And this is Ser Bubberston, my faithful comrade and bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?  Why would you need a bodyguard?"  Dorian's mind pieced things together before I could reply.  "The templars.  You're scared of the templars."

"Particularly two.  The Knight-Commander, and the one whose tongue I bit off.  But I'm sure a lot of them are keeping an eye out for me."  With that thought, I put my hat back on my head a bit too hastily to be considered calm.

Dorian's eyes shot up as I spoke.  "Did I hear you correctly?  You  _bit off_ a templar's tongue?  How?"

"With my teeth."  I clacked them together with a faint snarl for good measure.  "So, Dorian of House Pavus, what brings you to Kirkwall?  Surely it must not have been so you could yell at struggling vendors and be confronted by a spectacular, young, white-haired elf.  Better yet, why were you in the bazaar at all?"

We started to automatically walk, the near-tussle we had almost been in silently fading away.  

It was as if we were supposed to be friends.

Well.

Dorian flourished a hand as he responded.  "I'm traveling from Tevinter to meet up with an associate of mine, stuck without servants or slaves--"  He cleared his throat and glanced down at me.  "Sorry."

"For what?  Practicing a tradition thousands of years old?  Yeah, I believe slavery is wrong, but I'm not going to spit in your face for doing what you've always done."

He laughed lowly.  "And what will you do, then?"

"Gently encourage you to think outside the box and realize that brainwashing a living, breathing person into doing your bidding is probably not the nicest thing to condone," I put bluntly.

Dorian angled his head down at me.  I wasn't sure where we were headed, only that our feet were carrying us somewhere.  "We hardly know each other, and you're already telling me what I should think?"

"I'm not telling you," I corrected, the jangle of Bubs' collar becoming louder as he stopped to scratch behind his ear.  "I'm implying.  There's a huge difference.  And I daresay we know each other quite well, Dorian.  We yelled at each other in the marketplace, after all."

"Yes," he said dryly.  "How could I forget you criticizing my buckles?"

I laughed.  "That was an amazing insult."

"Do you care nothing for my feelings?"

"Do you care about mine?"

"No, not particularly."

"Then I'll kindly return the favor."

We gave each other another look.  Who  _was_ this guy, even?  Who did he think he was?

I knew he was wondering the same about me.  We should have reevaluated our sudden rivalry-turned-friendship, but we were too swept up in other topics to stop and do such.  The associate Dorian was meeting up with went by the name of Gereon Alexius and his son, Felix, who should have been here today but were a day behind schedule, so that gave Dorian nothing to do for the next few hours.  But he explicitly said that as long as he didn't have to be at home and dealing with his parents trying to marry him off, he could deal with the shithole they called Kirkwall.  

"And what about you?" Dorian asked me.  "There must be some terrible reason why you're here.  And  _don't_ tell me it's what you wanted; nobody  _wants_ to be in Kirkwall."

I snorted a laugh and adjusted the placement of the basket on my hip, briefly reminding myself that I still needed to go to the butcher's to get some meat before I answered the question.  "I fell out of thin air in the middle of Lowtown six years ago, naked, and with no memory of how I ended up here.  I have no desire to go back to my clan, though, because I do know that whatever I left was far worse than here."  It was weird, turning a lie into the truth.  "Hawke found me, took me in, suckled me on the sweet milk of apostasy and riff-raff."

"I'm calling that bluff.  Also, ew."

My free hand rested over my heart.  "Completely true, I swear it.  Ask anybody.  I was quite the talk of the town, there for a while."

Dorian  _harrumphed._ "So you're telling me that you're  _friends_ with the Champion of Kirkwall?  Garrett Hawke?"  

"Who do you think I'm shopping for?  The dude can't cook for himself."  I grimaced.  "He just...eats...blocks of cheese.  Nothing else.  Just cheese.  And salted meat."

"That's somewhat revolting."

I had a flashback of witnessing Hawke eating said cheese after I heard him doing the dirty and shuddered.  "You have no idea."  After a moment I added, "Are  _you_ okay with feeding yourself?  I'm sure you haven't had anybody peel your grapes and chew your food for you in weeks."

Dorian glared at Bubs, whose tongue was lolling out in amusement of my question.  "Believe it or not, but I  _can_ take care of myself.  I know the basics--I can cook rice, noodles..."  He trailed off, frowning when he failed to come up with anything.  That frown only deepened when I laughed at him.

 _"That's_ why you wanted lettuce!  Because then you could make a salad or something!"  I tossed my head back and laughed again, only stopping when I saw that we had come to a fancy door most likely leading to Dorian's even fancier mansion.

"Yes, yes, mock me all you want," he grumbled, "but it's not my fault I was raised in a privileged, sheltered house."

My head rolled back, throat bobbing up and down on my neck scar as I made a noise.   _"Fine._ I give in.  I'll cook for you."

"I--what?"

"But only if Bubs can come in."

Dorian looked at me as if he had never seen an act of kindness.  I turned away and began walking to the butcher's so I wouldn't have to put him through more torment.  "I'll be back in fifteen minutes.  Try not to do anything stupid while I'm gone," I called over my shoulder.

Behind me I heard the Tevinter give a soft, bemused laugh.  

Bubs turned his head up at me, dog eyebrows shooting upwards as if he was asking,  _Seriously?  Who are you, a Chantry mother?  Why're you doing this?_

I shrugged.  "Because helping others makes me happy."

He took that as an adequate answer and was silent.

-

Hawke stood up from the stairs that he was sitting on when I opened the door and came in, pulling off my hat and hanging it on the coat rack nearby.  "Maker, Alaran," he breathed as he strode forward to meet me.  "Where were you?"

My eyebrows drew together as I motioned for Bubs to go play with Beefcakes out in the backyard.  He bounded off, leaving the two of us alone.  "I was out and about, Hawke.  Why do you ask?"

He made several hand gestures without really explaining anything before he used actual words.  "I was...worried.  Things are getting so bad out there, I just didn't know..."

I gave a small smile and approached to stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on his hairy cheek.  "Thank you for caring about me.  I'll try not to worry you again."

The gesture made Hawke's ears turn red.  I effortlessly concealed my smirk and headed into the kitchen.  "So," I said as he followed, "what shall we have to eat?"

He hummed in thought.  "Something that won't take too long to make; I have to meet up with Anders in a bit so we can go down to the sewers and get...oh, what was it?  Sela Petrae?  Yeah, I think that's-- _oof!"_

Hawke staggered as he ran into my back.  While he regained his footing, I remained frozen as my brain processed what I had just heard.  

_Sela Petrae.  An explosive._

_Shit.  It's going to happen soon, isn't it?_

"Holy Andraste, Alaran," Hawke complained, "what are you made out of?  Stone?  Shit, it was like walking into a marble statue...hey, you alright?"

I came back to reality and moved.  "Yeah," I replied as I set the basket on the table and began unpacking everything.  "I just..." _don't trust Anders.  And neither should you._ "I think..." _that you need to put a stop to this.  You need to know the truth._ "I want..."  _to tell you everything, Garrett.  I'm tired of lying and pretending._

But my head gave a shake.  "It's nothing," I said firmly.  Hawke cast me a dubious look, but upon examining my resolute expression thought it better to not battle.  "And I'll make you a quick dinner."

"Make that  _two_ quick dinners," another voice added.  I glanced up and smiled tautly at Varric's entrance.  "Believe it or not," he chuckled, "but for some reason your food is better than the Hanged Man's."

I did, moving in silence as the mage and the dwarf chatted.  I decided to make enough not only for the two, but for Anders and an extra for whoever else was going with them.  It ended up being bacon, fried eggs, and cheese smooshed between two slices of toasted bread.  When in doubt, make breakfast food.  

"Mm," Hawke purred as he bit into his sandwich, a smile spreading across two full cheeks.  "Thi ih delishouh, Al."

I ate my own, forcing myself to swallow and keep it down.  "You're welcome, Garrett."

Maybe I should leave.  Just pack up and...go.  Dorian said that he could probably get Gereon to allow me to come with them wherever they were going.  I could be a scribe and give input from my time in the Fade, if I wanted.  It would get me out of here, it would...I wouldn't have to  _see_ the destruction and chaos...

I would have to leave tomorrow, if that was the case.  Everything I owned I would need to pack right now.  And goodbyes...

No.  I couldn't say goodbye.  There'd be too many questions, too many attachments.  It was now or never.

My feet carried me up the stairs and into my bedroom.  My hands grabbed a fairly large pack and tossed it onto the bed.  My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching my teeth together.  My heart pounded from the stat of panic I was in. 

 _Just tell them, just tell them, just tell them,_ I chanted in my head as I hastily tossed clothes into the bag.  But I couldn't.  To tell them would...I don't know,  _not_ cause a mage rebellion?  And to not cause a mage rebellion would be to not set the motion of the Inquisition into action.  And with the Inquisition not in place, then Corypheus wouldn't be stopped.  There would be no Herald, no Inquisitor, and Solas...oh, Solas, I didn't want to think about what he would do.

I would step on one helluva big butterfly if I tried putting a stop to it.  

_Kill Anders._

My lips twisted into a grimace and I snarled at the unwanted thought.  No, I didn't want to  _kill_ Anders.  He was my friend.  

But who _was_ he, now?  Definitely not the same man I had met six years ago, who beat up grass when he found out magic didn't work on me, who cured all the elves in the alienage that got poisoned from the water, who nearly out-sassed me on a few occasions, and who set out bowls full of milk for kitties to come and drink.

But he was going to  **blow up** the Chantry, along with hundreds of innocent people who were unfortunate enough to be in there just to make a point.

Was it a  _bad_ point, though?  The templars that he despised--that most mages in Thedas despised--were the same ones who had locked me up and did heinous, unspeakable things to me.  And the Chantry allowed it. Elthina allowed it. 

But I  _knew_ what was going to happen.   _I_ was the one that could make a difference.  

Would that difference result in something worse?

My knees hit the floor and I keeled over, pressing my forehead onto the cool wooden boards.  A small, choked whine escaped from me as I clutched onto my hair and twisted it in my grasp.  When my brain still wouldn't shut up about everything, I began to thump my forehead against the ground.  

I couldn't leave.

_But you're not a part of this storyline.  You never were.  The exact same events would have happened whether or not you were here._

"Not true," I whispered.

_It is.  So leave.  Pack your bags, and get out.  Run away from it all._

I flipped over on my back and stared up at the ceiling.  That's what I was doing, wasn't it?  Running away from everything?  What was so bad about that?

"No, not now, Captain America," I groaned as Steve Rogers' voice drifted into my thoughts.  

_If you start running, you don't ever stop._

Heck.

A while after concluding that I would be staying, I somehow managed to get back up and put everything away to where it belonged.  Bubs soon came and joined me, hopping on the bed like he owned it and chewing on a mysterious bone Hawke got from the Boner--I mean,  _Bone_ Pit.  I had a feeling it was either human or dragon, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

I wasn't sure how I felt about anything, anymore.  

"Bubberston," I sighed as I refolded a tunic I crumpled when I threw it in the pack.  "Oh, Bubberston, what are we going to do?"

He was going to drool on my blankets, that's what.  "You know, you're growing into a big boy," I continued to say.  "Pretty soon you'll be too big to fit in the bed with me."

I was given a look that said,  _Just try me_ from the Mabari, followed by a  _crunch_ as he tore through the bone.

Fantastic.

-

Hawke's eyes flew open, stopping mid-scream as he came to.  His room was dark, save for the silver pallor of moonlight that washed in from his chamber window.  

There was a knock on his door, but it soon opened without permission.

Alaran stepped through, eyes reflecting in the dark.  Like a cat's.  It was kind of freaky, but he had gotten used to it after spending so much time with Merrill and Fenris.  A dark robe was thrown over Alaran, open and revealing one of his old tunics he gave to her right after her return to the Waking World.  It was so big that it served as a nightgown.  "Hey," she said, her voice hushed and somber.  "Are you alright?  I heard..." 

"Yeah," Hawke answered, forcing a smile.  "I'm fine.  Just a bad dream."

Beefcakes, who had jumped up on the mattress to rest her giant skull on his legs, huffed in argument.  

"What was it about?" she asked, feet silent as she walked across the floor to seat herself at the foot of his bed.  

"Alaran," Hawke sighed resignedly.  He didn't want to talk, not now.  Not about that dream.  "You should go back to sleep.  It's late, and..."

"I didn't hear your screams here, Garrett," Alaran cut off kindly.  "I heard them in the Fade.  You don't usually make any noise."

"And how would you know that I don't?" Hawke questioned wearily as he sat up straighter.  

"Combined with proximity and your connection to the Fade?  It wasn't that hard."  Alaran idly pet Beefcakes' hindquarter.  The shadows cast on her face sharpened the angles of her cheekbones, jawline, and ears.  "I spied."

"You spied what?  My dream?"

"Yeah.  I just asked you because I was trying to be polite."  Her eyes met his own, violet against gold.  "You never talked to anybody about your mother's death, did you?"

Hawke was silent, not realizing he was crying until Alaran crawled next to him and wiped away his tears with a thin, delicate thumb.  Even after seeing her in action, he still had a hard time believing those same hands could brandish a greatsword with ease.

"I remember when I met Leandra," Alaran spoke to him.  "It was when I first popped into Kirkwall out-of-the-blue, and I was wearing nothing but the duster Varric lent to me.  You brought me to Gamlen's house to get some proper clothes, and your mom said, 'Garrett Hawke!  You turn your back around this instant!  And your friends, too!  She's indecent, and you have the gall to stare!'"  Alaran's imitation was so spot-on Garrett snorted the combination of a laugh and a sob.  "You argued back but only dug yourself a deeper hole," she said, the small smile on her face proving that it was a fond memory.  "I was really scared, you know.  But Leandra helped me feel...safe.  She was a mother, and we all want our mothers when we're afraid."  Something flickered in Alaran's eyes, something melancholic, faraway, and...sad.  

Then it was gone.  Alaran blinked sleepily and laid down next to Hawke.  "What're you doing?" he asked lowly.  

"Sleeping next to you.  Just don't touch me, or else I'll have a BF."

"A BF?"

"A Bitch Fit.  You don't want that, do you?"

Unsure if Alaran was joking or not, Hawke slowly slid back down to his side.  He smelt faint lavender from the elf, a scent that made him drowsy.  

There was a soft whine from the bottom of the bed, and shortly after he felt another, smaller Mabari clamber on, excreting a toxic gas as he laid down next to Beefcakes.  "Oh, Maker," he moaned, "that's revolting."

"Just keep breathing through your nose," Alaran instructed sleepily.  "If you open your mouth and breathe in, then you'll taste it, too."

Hawke coughed.  "Too late."

"Don't worry, the taste fades after a while."

Alaran hummed low in her chest as she drew the covers up to her shoulders.  Hawke had to resist the urge to wrap his arm around her, purely out of the instinct of having somebody else in bed beside him.  But Alaran, who used to rely so much on having physical contact with at least one other person in the room, could hardly stand being touched for longer than a few moments.  It created a bitter taste in Hawke's mouth--not because Alaran no longer acted that way, but because of what made her  _be_ that way.  That thought alone led to a million others he didn't want to deal with, not this late at night.  

Hawke kept his distance, just as Alaran asked.  It didn't stop him from staring at her back with a half-lidded gaze.  He was almost positive she wasn't telling her whole story.  There were secrets in those violet eyes, and sometimes they shone like beacons.  He also knew that if he tried to pry them out of her, he wouldn't get anywhere and only result in being on Alaran's kill list.  

The truth always revealed itself, though.  So Hawke would wait.

"Garrett," Alaran whispered.

"Yeah?" he whispered back.  

"Thank you for taking me in.  For everything."

She turned over to face Hawke, hands tucked under the pillow and white hair tousled and messy.  "You'll always have my gratitude, and my love."

Crap.  He was staring.  It wasn't his fault that he _just_ realized Alaran was what people would consider  _beautiful._ In his bed.  When she was saying something heartfelt.

Alaran called him out.  "Don't look at me that way.  It'll only cause you heartbreak," she whispered with a smirk, then closed her eyes.

Hawke had to scoff a laugh, getting a grip on his feelings.  "Go to sleep, Narala."

"...Did you just say my name backwards?"

"Yes, I did," he sniffed as he closed his own eyes.  "And you know what?  It's not that bad of a name."

"No, it's better than...Tterrag."

"Oh very much so, yes."

They shared another laugh, then drifted off into silence. Hawke cracked an eyelid open to see if Alaran was  _actually_ sleeping.

She was.

-

"You do not have to come, Alaran," Merrill said we waited for Hawke in the foyer.  I looked up from Varric's hair that I took the liberty of playing with, his leather band he used to tie it back in my mouth.  "I know you have strong feelings about the eluvian, and I don't want to you to feel shortchanged with..."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Merrill, where are you going with this?" I asked through the object in my mouth, fingers running through the dwarf's thick, lustrous hair. 

"W-well, I know that you thought I was being prideful when I, uh..."

"Ima stop you right there, Mer," I said, braiding a small portion of Varric's hair to give him more of a roguish ruffian look as I spoke.  "This is different.  It has nothing to do with our prior conversation--"

"What  _prior conversation_ was had?" Varric butt in.  I tugged on his hair.  

"Hey, no being snoopy."

"You're playing with my  _hair,_ Al," he laughed.  "I think I deserve to be snoopy."

"Alaran, what are you doing to my dwarf?" Hawke called as he trotted down the staircase, fastening his pointy pauldron to his shoulder as he talked.  

"Making him look fabulous," I replied, dropping the leather band in my palm and using it to tie Varric's hair back in it's original place.  "Now people will be able to tell the difference between him and Anders."

"We don't have the same hairstyle," both he and Anders protested simultaneously.  

"Well  _now_ you don't," I muttered, but was loud enough so everybody could hear.

"You should keep the braid," Isabela commented.  "It makes you look even more dashing.  Like a dwarven pirate, or some sort.  Which is actually ridiculous, because every dwarf I've come across gets horrendously seasick.  Remember that one time--"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't need to remind me," Varric grumbled.  I patted his head to signal that I was finished and stepped back.  We were going to go to Sundermount's Friendly Demon Eluvian Consultant, hoping that nothing bad was going to come of it.

Something very bad was going to come of it.  And I  _did_ say something, but nobody was quite listening to me, so I dropped it.  But I _had_  convinced Hawke to let me be the warrior of the party, shortly after posing the question, "Do you  _want_ to be scowled at by Fenris and Aveline the entire time?  Or do you want an open-minded, Fade-experienced elf who is also a badass warrior?"  I then added some waggling eyebrows for good measure.

He let me join.

The trip to Sundermount brought back memories.  I had a hard time deciding if they felt like long-ago memories or just-recent memories, because my whole timeline was a little...skewed.  But what I saw and felt when I entered Clan Sabrae's camp would always be ingrained in my head for the rest of my existence.  

The real, honest reason why I decided to come along was not because I wanted to watch Merrill's life crash and burn.  I loved her; she was one of my best friends, and after a while I had slowly begun offering bits and pieces of information and history that she could intake, like medicine in small doses.  I decided that maybe, just maybe, it would help her figure out a better alternative than consorting with a demon.  But when she asked me how I could help cleanse the eluvian of its corruption, I found that I had no answer.  When I sought out Wisdom in the Fade and asked her, she merely shook her head and said that only ancient, powerful magic amplified by a foci would fully restore it.  If I told Merrill what I knew, I was almost a hundred percent positive she would bleed herself out trying to get enough power from blood magic.  

So I had to come to terms with the fact that I would have to stand back and watch as everything played out as it should be.  There would be as little interaction as possible.  I'd say  _andaran ati'shan, lethallin_ to the Keeper and the other elves and nothing else. 

But everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

No.  Ugh,  _Alaran you've gotta stop doing that._

_Nah, don't stop, don't stop, talking to me--_

_Aaand now you've gone into song lyrics._

When I got nervous I tended to go off a million tangents.   _Why_ was I nervous, though?  What could possibly make Alaran Lavellan nervous?

The fact that a Dalish clan was so superstitious and unbelieving of their culture that they would alienate and disown the one person who had the motivation to uncover it through any means?

Yeah.  That would do it.

In the game, one could tell that the Dalish weren't the  _best_ at discerning between what was right for their people history-wise and what wasn't.  They turned Merrill into a pariah, such and such, the quest was finished, Merrill was consoled, and everybody got on with life.  

In reality--oh, in  _reality--_ I saw just why Merrill went to such extremes to restore what was lost.  I wasn't sure if I would do any different, if I was in her position, which perhaps contributed to my anxiety.  Her clan... _the_ clan itself was in poor, failing condition, yet they still had enough energy to cast Merrill venomous, despising glares, not even bothering to lower the volume of their voices as they murmured about her.  A few even outright proclaimed that Merrill didn't belong.  

I wanted to shout back that  _she_ was the one who was right, that  _she_ would have been the one to lead them all to prosperity and redemption, and that  _they_ were what was oppressing themselves, not just solely the humans.  But even if I did, I would have no foundation, no base, no recognition in the camp, despite the minor detail that I spent  _six years in the Fade_ (no, not as much as Solas or the spirits, but far more than anybody here in the Waking World) and knew more than any of these lumps about their own culture.  

It made me feel like a total ass hat for withholding information from Merrill in the first place.  And incredibly guilty.  Shit, I felt  _so_ guilty.  A guilty ass hat, who wore asses for hats and was riddled with guilt.  I needed to apologize to her.  

Keeper Marethari took in my own, different  _vallaslin,_ marking me as another Dalish from a different clan.  She bowed her head to me slightly, but gave no other sign of acknowledgment.  I could _feel_ the demon inside her, roiling and raging, but tucked away and restrained by the Keeper.  I had to admit, the old lady had strength to keep it reined in for so long without showing any signs that she was possessed.  I glanced at Anders, who seemed completely oblivious to the fact that a demon was inside Marethari.  But he had such a hardened, distant gaze that I doubted he was even paying attention to what was happening before him.   _Then_ I was reminded just what he was going to do, and I got more bummed out.

"Welcome home,  _da'len,"_ Marethari said to Merrill calmly.  

Merrill crossed her arms.  "This isn't a homecoming, Keeper.  Why is the clan even here?  You should have moved on ages ago!"

"The clan still has business here,  _da'len._ We will leave when it is time," Marethari responded, keeping her eyes level and controlled.  Hot damn.  

_Don't you wish you could keep everything in like that?  All those emotions nobody wants to hear about, all those tears you just can't keep in--_

"...you can't stay here!  Eventually, the humans will force you to leave."

"There are plenty of hiding places in these mountains.  We will stay until my business is done.  If you are not returning to us, what has brought you back?"

"We want to know how Merrill can fix the eluvian," Hawke answered, using his words to imply that she wasn't alone, that she had people who supported her.

Marethari heard that loud and clear.  She gave him a reprimanding look.  "I wouldn't restore that cursed thing, even if I could.  It has stolen life and promise from my clan already.  And this was the least treacherous thing it was capable of doing.  You  _must_ come to your senses, Merrill.  This evil cannot be allowed in the world."

"It is part of our world!" Merrill shot back strongly.  "It has been in our world for centuries!  And I am not the only one who knows!"

Oh, no.

"Alaran spent six years' time consulting with spirits in the Fade, and they told her what the eluvians did."   _Well, the Dread Wolf, God of Rebellion, did specifically._ "They are not evil!  They are our history,  _and_ our future."  She took a step forward, remorse spanning her face and sinking into her green eyes, but not quite overcoming her stance.  "No one is pained more by Mahariel's loss than I, but the mirror wasn't responsible."  Then her voice was encompassed by grim resolve.  "But I'm wasting my time.  You'd rather fear the past than reclaim it.  This is pointless, Hawke.  Let's go."

As we walked past, Keeper Marethari put a hand on my shoulder.  A thousand alarms went off in my head, just the touch of her setting my nerves on edge.  "What clan are you from,  _da'len?"_ she asked.  I looked back at her, having to focus my mind to see if this was some sort of trap to catch me in my own lie.

"Lavellan,  _hahren."_

"Hm.  I know of your clan.  But why are you so far away from them?  What brought you all the way out here?"

 _No idea.  Ha!  I have_ no _idea.  I doubt I ever will, either.  And could you please get your hand off of me?_ "I don't remember, Keeper," I said, falling into the old, used statement.

"Certainly they must miss you.  We may be heading that way, once business is finished.  Shall I send word that you are alive?"

My eyes flickered over to the group, who was listening intently while trying to maintain neutral expressions.  

I slid out from underneath the Keeper's grasp, holding in a breath of relief, and took a step back.  "No.  No, that won't be necessary.  I don't think they would want to know that I was alive.  Besides, I have a new family, now."

Marethari nodded once and let me go.  I ignored everybody's looks and plowed ahead.  Poop.  So there really  _was_ a Clan Lavellan.  I would have to lie about my lie, because if the truth came out that I wasn't from Clan Lavellan at all, then I would have to come up with another lie as to why I lied about that.

_Just tell them the truth.  They'd understand.  They'd be shocked and disbelieving, yes, but once that was all over then they'd be fascinated and think it was awesome._

_And should I just add that I knew everything that was going to happen, yeah?  Since I'd be telling the truth.  Say to them that I knew what was going to happen with the Arishok, that I knew what was going to happen with Bartrand, that I knew what was going to happen with Fenris and his sister, that I know what **is** going to happen as we're walking up Sundermount, what  **is** going to happen with Meredith and Orsino.  What  **is** going to happen with Anders and blowing up the Chantry._

_Just face it.  I can never tell the complete truth.  I will always be lying, to some degree.  What's the point?_

_What is the point._

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, kitten?" Isabela asked Merrill as we journeyed up the mountain.  I had decided to stay in the back of the group to avoid conversation, and was instead listening to what talk there was.

"Not even a tiny bit," Merrill said, voice soft and almost swept up by the rustle of nearby pine trees.  

"It's not too late to go back, you know," the Rivaini offered.  

"I have to finish this.  I've sacrificed too much just to walk away."

"Al?  Have anything to say?" Varric prompted.  I tore my eyes away from the view of my bare feet walking over the familiar terrain; after going to Vimmark, I almost completely swore off boots, no matter how much protection they gave.   _I was planning on having hobbit feet, so I could ride with Rohan to Minas Tirith--_

"What are you talking about, Alaran?" Hawke interrupted.  My teeth audibly clacked together as my mouth closed.  Had I just said that  _out loud?_ What the poop?  What freak, Al?  You have GOT to STOP doing that! 

"Uh, I don't know," I mumbled with an awkward shrug.  "I've--"

"Hobbit feet?" Varric questioned. "What's--"

"Fade stuff.  You wouldn't know," I cut off more sharply than I intended.  After a short breath I shook my head and added, "Sorry, guys.  I'm just...a bit weird right now."

"Aren't we all," Anders muttered distantly.  I tucked my eyes back down to the ground and clenched my jaw together, self-anger boiling my blood.  I had a thundercloud over my head up until we took a detour to pray at Mythal's shrine.  Then I had to pay attention, lest I get myself into deeper shit.

"Mythal," Merrill spoke reverently, "all-mother, protector of the People, watch over us, for the path we tread is perilous.  Save us from the darkness, as you did before, and we will sing your name to the heavens."  Then she turned to us, hesitant.  "Sorry.  I didn't mean to hold us.  You just--it's never wise to ignore Mythal."

_Or call her a dragon lady._

_Oh yeah, there was **another secret you have, Alaran.** Just add that to the ginormous, disgusting pile, would ya?_

"Er, who or what...is Mythal, exactly?" Hawke asked.  Great.

"She's the protector, the mother of the Creators.  The one who put the moon in the sky.  Wisest of all the gods," Merrill replied knowingly.  Well.  Mythal  _was_ a protector, that was true.  "When Elgar'nan defeated his father, the sun, the earth was plunged into darkness.  Everything was about to perish."  Her voice took on a softer yet no less exciting tone.  "Mythal appeared then, calmed Elgar'nan and restored the sun to the heavens.  The people always look to her for help.  Isn't that right, Alaran?  You wear her  _vallaslin,_ or a version of it, at least."  

Oh.  Right.  I did, didn't I?  "Yes," I agreed curtly, refraining from brushing fingers against my forehead where the majority of my  _vallaslin_ was.  I didn't want to be a part of this.

No.  I wanted to make things  _right._

"Merrill," I found myself saying, "I need you to know that-- _ow!"_

Varric had stepped on my foot.   _Hard._

He smiled sweetly at me.  "Sorry 'bout that, Al.  I'll have to be careful where I walk."

My thunderstorm returned, and I directed all the lightning within me to the danky little dwarf standing by my side.  "Varric," I growled menacingly.  His expression didn't change.  

"What were you going to say, Alaran?" Merrill asked me.  I looked back to her.  Varric's...method...brought me to my senses.  Damn him.  

"I was just going to say that...it will be alright.  Mythal will protect us."

"Nothing bad will happen," Hawke also assured, but with the flatness in his eyes I could tell he didn't believe it.

"I hope not.  The People never neglect Mythal's shrines.  She--it's dangerous.  They say if Mythal smiles on you, then you need fear nothing at all."  Well...technically she did smile at  _all_ of us present, at some point or another.  Quite literally.  I didn't know how the Dalish  _knew_ when Mythal smiled upon them.  "But those who anger her, they're struck from the earth...as if they never lived at all."

Okay.  That sounded fake, but okay.

As we made out way to the cave, I casually put a hand on Varric's shoulder and pulled him to the back of the group, glaring silently at him as he was positioned beside me.  "What the hell was that all about, Varric?" I whispered loud enough so that only he could hear.  I was afraid that he knew.  Somehow, he knew.  I had to know if I was secure.

"Look, Al," he whispered back.  "I know you were dancing in the Fade and frolicking in memories and history and shit, so you probably know things about your People.  A lot of things.  But if you hurt Daisy now of all times with _any_  information, I don't know what will happen.  You had your chance to tell her, and you know that opportunity won't come again until after this is all through.  So just shut your mouth, be patient, and loosen up."

"You try to loosen up when you know what I know," I said more darkly than I thought it would come out.  "And don't try telling me what to do when--"

"Alaran."

His hand was wrapped around my arm.  Instead of calming me, my anger only spiked to another notch because _he was touching me_.  I jerked free of his hold.  I was usually okay about coming into contact with Varric, but in the moment I could hardly handle it.  What was wrong with me?

I honestly didn't know or care.  Not today.

While everybody else did some small-talking, I remained silent.  I didn't have a good thing to say about anything, so I opted out of speaking entirely.  My jaw ached from keeping it wired shut so tightly.  I had...

 _**Fingernails ripping out of place,** _  
_**Blood dripping on the floor,** _  
_**Hands on my body as--** _

I squeezed my eyes shut.  Not now.  Please, please, not now.  I didn't want to  _have_ this right now.

_You should have stayed in the Fade.  Then nothing ever would have happened to you, and you wouldn't be feeling--_

When the shadow assassin and a few corpses appeared outside the cave we were supposed to go into, I had my sword in my hands at a moment's notice and was driving into them, hacking the heads off of the corpses while everybody else dealt with the shadow assassin.  We made short work of it, barely putting in effort.  Once they were deader than they were before, Hawke gazed up at the cave entrance, puffing out his lips momentarily before exhaling.

"Are we ready?" he asked out loud, bladed staff firmly at his side.

"Let's get this over with," Anders sighed.  He had been the second quietest, after me.  When we walked in, the two of us downers buddied up and scowled at everything.  Especially the giant creepy-ass idol.  

The vacant, giant creepy-ass idol.  

Merrill strode up to it and examined the...freakiness...of it.  "Something is wrong.  this was where the spirit was bound.  But now, it feels...empty."

"Do you think it freed itself?" Hawke asked.

"It would have taken powerful magic to break him free of this prison," Merrill replied lowly.  "You couldn't just set him loose.  Nobody could.  Not without doing something terrible.  This is very...wrong."

"Who bound the demon here in the first place?" Anders said, crossing his arms and scrutinizing Merrill with a hardened gaze.

"There was a war, long ago," she said as she turned back to us.  "Between my people and the Tevinter Imperium.  After the magisters sunk Arlathan, my people made a last stand here, fighting on the graves of our elders.  I don't know if it was the Elvhenan or Tevinter who bound the spirit, but he was left from the war."

It had been the Elvhenan.

"It couldn't have just  _vanished,"_ Hawke said, shuffling his heel against the ground unknowingly.  He tended to do that when he got nervous, I noticed.  "We'll track it down."

"He shouldn't have been able to leave," Merrill said with composed frustration and fear.  "What happened to him?"

"I happened."

Ah.  And there it was.  I noticed Varric glancing at me as we all switched our positions to watch Keeper Marethari descend the decrepit, warped staircase.  I held eye contact with him for a few seconds before looking away.  

"Keeper," Merrill said quietly, "what have you done?" 

"The demon's plan was always for you to complete the mirror," Marethari answered with graven sorrow.  "It would have been a doorway out of this prison and into our world.  You would have been his first victim."  Merrill was starting to slowly shake her head, not believing what she was hearing.  "I couldn't let that happen,  _da'len."_

"You didn't think to mention that the demon was gone before we hiked all the way up here?" Hawke put in, walking up so he was behind Merrill's shoulder.  

The Keeper took a few steps back, then closed her eyes and said, "It's not gone."  She then opened them back again, green eyes filled with years of regrets and unresolved fears.  "I couldn't fight it in the Fade while it was trapped.  And I couldn't banish it without making it stronger.  So I made myself its prison.  Kill me, and it dies too.  Merrill will finally be safe."

"No!" the former First protested harshly.  "You can't ask...I won't do this!"

Marethari looked directly at her, pinning her down with aching sadness.  "You always knew your blood magic had a price,  _da'len._ I have chosen to pay it for you.   _Dareth shiral."_

I felt the eruption of the demonic presence in the Keeper, roaring with glee as it burst through its chains that had it bound and into the world where it longed to be.

_Bod would have let you stay forever.  He wouldn't have done all those things.  He just wanted stories, which you could have supplied throughout eternity.  Solas could keep you safe, and you left him for...for **this.** Despondency and despair._

**_Hair being snipped from my head,  
Questions being driven into me like nails,  
He was _ ** _inside **me, using me like a piece--**_

My greatsword dropped out of my hands and clattered to the ground.  The world became silent, despite that I could see everybody battling the pride demon and the spirits that came with it.  It should have been a deafening, screaming, shouting battle, but...

I heard nothing.

 **_The dank cell reeked of mold and piss and blood,  
I swayed from the chains, head hung low and back aching.  
I could feel him, I could feel _ ** _them, **using me and I wasn't a person and--**_

Then I heard everything.  Everything, everything, everything from the past, present, future. 

Cold hands that didn't feel like mine clamped over my ears.   _Pointed ears, they weren't yours this body wasn't yours you should be ashamed._

I opened my mouth, pouring out a silent scream and dropping to one knee.  Too much.

It was all too much.

-

"...Al!  Al!  Alaran!"

Varric was shaking me.  Varric was shaking me, and the ground was solid, and I was here and not there. 

Oh, shit.

I was  _here._

And  _here_ was in a cave with a pride demon.

"Alaran, you need to get back!" shouted Varric, putting a bolt in the demon's leg to keep it at bay.  Freak.  Freaking hell, I was the  _warrior._ I was their front line.  These fuckers couldn't defend themselves at close contact.  

"Damn it," I growled, hastily picked up my greatsword with shaking fingers, shoved Varric behind me, and dove into action, batting away one of his swipes with the flat of my blade.  He staggered me to the side, which gave the demon time to lash electricity at me.  I couldn't dive out of the way in time and was shocked with a dangerous amount of voltage.  My body went through spasms, but fortunately all that electricity solidified my grip on the hilt of my sword.  I wished it was magic.  Oh, oh I wished it was magic.  Because  _magic_ wouldn't have dealt actual damage to me.  Because  _Magic_ was just a Gathering and sometimes got really intense between rounds at a Speech and Debate competition and oh jeez I was thinking about a freaking  _card game_ while a demon loomed over me, ready to stab one of its giant pointy fingers through my tum tum.  

I rolled out the way as Isabela distracted the demon with some daggers to the back.  "Alaran, are you alive?" Hawke asked as he stood beside me, putting a hand on my armored back.  I drew in a few ragged breaths.

**_Being released from the shackles of imprisonment  
You'll never be free, though, never be free never be free_ **

"Alaran?"

"I'm alive, Hawke," I said after a cough.  "I'm...I'm alive."

Then the demon tapped into some blood magic.  "Hide behind your reason and your compromises, mortal!" he bellowed.  "I will still destroy you!"  Aaand after that statement, he grew bigger.  Much, much bigger.

I wasn't having any of it, though, and charged right at the creature, greatsword aimed at its chest.  I dodged two, three swipes and leaped in the air, plunging my blade through his hide.  I didn't realize I was screaming until I was looking in the demon's eyes, seeing him as much as he saw me.  

Before I could prop my feet against his torso and yank my sword back out, there was a burst of magic that sent me flying.  It wasn't the magic itself that threw me off, but the force accompanied with it.  I spiraled in the air, panic gripping me as I lost hold of my weapon and braced myself for impact, because I knew that it wasn't going to be a soft landing.

My shoulder hit first with a prompt  _pop_ as something either broke or was dislocated.  Next was my head and neck.  When they landed, the world blackened for several moments.  I was still vaguely aware of what was happening, which was the form of the Keeper returning and Merrill running to her.  Anders and Isabela were at my side, already.  "M...Mer..." I rasped, trying to warn her that it wasn't the Keeper at all.  But my thoughts wouldn't connect to words, and my words wouldn't connect with my speech.  

"Hey, shush," Anders commanded as he cradled the back of my noggin.  "You need to lie still, and you need to lie still  _right now."_

I wanted to yell at him, but my voice box was suddenly on mute.  Healing potions were forced down my throat.  I wanted to gag, but couldn't.  I even wanted to cry out as Isabela put my shoulder back in place, except, you know, that wasn't happening because I was temporarily out-of-order.

As the pain subsided and my body was helped with not one, not two, but  _four_ healing potions, I listened to Keeper Marethari talk to Merrill.  "You've beaten it,  _da'len._ You are so much stronger than I imagined.  The demon is dead."

"Keeper, I..."

_He's playing on your pride, on your emotions!  Merrill!  Merrill, kill it!_

"Let's leave this awful place.  The clan should hear the good news."

I made a noise, but it was barely audible.  I wouldn't be giving any input until I regained my senses.  

Thankfully, Hawke was there to point out what was said previously.  His staff was still gripped in a hand, prepared to fight at a moment's notice.  "You told us that the demon was bound to your life.  It would only die with you," he said lowly, cautiously.

Marethari backed up as a knife suddenly glinted in Merrill's hand, the same knife we had all seen her slice her own body with in order to attain powerful magic.   _"Ir abelas,_ Keeper," she lamented, and drove it into her  _hahren's_ chest.

Isabela stood to stand by Merrill's side as she fell to her knees, along with Hawke and Varric.  "Keeper," Merrill cried woefully.  "What have you done?  I don't want this.  I never wanted this!  Creators, please let this be a bad dream..."  The cavern was filled with her heartbroken, cracking voice.  My throat ached, but not from the impact I had taken or the potions.  It was because I felt...sorry, for Merrill.  I wanted to get up and comfort her, but all I could do was lie there and be held by Anders.  "I'll wake up and feel like an idiot, and she'll scold me for not listening..." she said rapidly.

Hawke knelt beside Merrill and put a tender hand on her upper back.  

"You were trying to help your people," he said soothingly and firmly.  "She should have had more faith."

"If she hadn't been so stubborn...if she had listened to me!  She never believed in me."  

For a good minute, we were all silent as Merrill's tears made soft  _spats_ on the ground as she mourned the death of her Keeper.  Then she abruptly wiped them away and stood.  "I...I should go to the clan.  Someone needs to know, needs to come...take care of her."

I was helped up by Anders.  The potions had taken effect and mostly repaired whatever damage had been done to me, but almost all my body was achingly sore, especially my shoulder and neck.  Isabela hoisted my greatsword and put it back in its sheath, the weight feeling comfortable and familiar.  

"You alright, Al?" Varric asked, putting a hand on my arm.  "You took a pretty hard hit."

"I'm just...having a bad day," I admitted quietly.  "So, could you please not touch me right now?  It's not you, I promise.  It's..."

He smiled knowingly and let his hand drop.  "All you ever need to do is say something, Al."

A weight lifted off my chest, and I let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding in.  Varric was...the best.  Just the best.

The Dalish hunters approached us the moment we exited the cave.  The day had turned stormy, and there was a harsh, damp wind on the mountain. It washed away the scent of the cell room I had continued to smell and the feeling of unwanted fingers and hands on my body and soul.

"We know the Keeper came here," said one.  "What's going on?  Where is she?"

Merrill brushed past us so she was at the front.  "Fenarel, the Keeper, she..."

"Look at her, Fenarel!  She's covered in blood!"

"What have you done, Merrill?"  Fenarel walked to the entrance of the cave and called, "Keeper!  Can you hear me?"

"She's dead," Merrill whimpered, eyes closing and head turning down.

"I should have guessed you'd turn on her, you monster," said a female Dalish hunter.  

"The Keeper turned into a demon," Hawke said a little heatedly.  "We had no choice."

_Bad, bad, bad bad bad._

I disliked the way the Dalish treated Merrill as much as everybody else, but I didn't want to  _kill_ them all, because from memory I knew that they would attack.  

Shit.

Bad Guy Alaran, coming through.

"There would have been no demon if it weren't for this little flat-eared bitch!" 

"Wait, wait!" I nearly shouted, taking my own steps forward, facing Fenarel and the rest.  "Hear me out, my brothers and sisters."  My voice became strong, amplified by the sharp air and the tense silence that eagerly awaited to be broken.  "I know of your pain, and I stood by and did nothing as I watched Merrill make mistake after mistake."  Each syllable seemed to send a poison trickling into my system.  "But please, there has been enough bloodshed for today.  Let me watch over her, make sure that she doesn't hurt anybody with blood magic again.  Fen'Harel guides her, this you know."

I was beginning to sway them, but I felt daggers driving into my back from everybody else.  "If she poses a threat to anybody--especially to herself--I will see to it that she is ended.  I will carry on what the Keeper always wanted."

Fenarel gave an eventual nod and sheathed his sword.  "I will hold you to that,  _lethallin."_ He motioned for his comrades to stand down.

"Keeper Marethari is in the cavern.  Tend to her body," I said, motioning behind me.  "Mythal preserve you."

"And you, as well."

As soon as they were gone into the cave, I slowly turned back around to my companions, cringing.  

"Alaran," Hawke said flatly, arms crossed.  "What in the  _Void_ was that shit?"

"They were going to  _attack_ us," I hissed, clapping my hands together sharply for effect.  "I saved our asses and theirs!  Do you think I meant any of that?"  I directed my gaze to Merrill.  "Please, please don't believe that.  I just didn't want anybody else to die.   _Ir abelas,_ Merrill.   _Ir abelas._  You know I want to help the People as much as you do."

She was silent, green eyes unreadable.  I was about to pour even more of my heart out when she rushed forward and threw her arms around me.  I stood frozen for a couple moments, stiffening into a rigid board.  Hugging.  She was hugging me and oh no this was a tender moment and I couldn't--couldn't--

"Hey, Daisy, wanna head back?" Varric questioned easily.  Merrill let go automatically and gave a sniffle, trying to stay composed until we came back.  I felt horrible.  I wanted to comfort her, I really,  _really_ did, but my own mental and physical obstruction was keeping me from doing so.

It was raining the whole walk back.  I distanced myself, feeling the rain chill my skin and numb the pain in my shoulder.  It didn't keep my mind from reeling.  I had done enough harm today.  There had to be  _some_ way that I could console her, as well as the rest of them.

"Merrill," I said as I trudged my already muddy feet into more mud.  "Would you like to hear a song I learned in the Fade?  It's elvhen."

"...Yes.  I would like that."

I cleared my throat and readied myself.  It was something I learned from...War, actually.  She had a soft spot for music, mostly because soldiers kept themselves strong and sane and human from songs.

It had been a while since I used my voice, and I had never used it in front of them.  I wasn't quite sure why; I had never been one who was shy of showing my talents--except for drawing; that was a totally different scenario.  By all means, I should have sung to them a long time ago.  

I should have been introspective about the whole thing.

But I wasn't.

The song was about losing a loved one when you thought that they never would be lost, but knowing that their memory will be passed down forever, through story and the weaving of the Fade.  It was sung most frequently under the starlight, after a battle was hard won or lost and the only thing to do was mourn for those who weren't coming back.  It was sad, yes, but not in the way that was hopeless.  There were high, trembling yet strong moments of life and a spark for what the future held, and at some points the tempo quickened to signify the changing motion none of us could keep at bay, merely move with.  It was real.  

The cold rain and whipping wind was a good thing, turns out.  It hid the tears everybody may have been spilling.

Including mine.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say this chapter was delayed because of something extremely important and arduous. But basically it's taken me a while because I watch too much Netflix as I write. Am I sorry? Not as much as I should be.
> 
> Hope you guys are being lovely.


	17. His Half of Radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Alaran see each other again

The knock on the door nearly made me jump out of my seat in the kitchen.  When it occurred, I was hunkered over a bowl of strawberries and cream. My unnatural eating habits were partially due to the fact that I was hungry  _a lot,_ and partially due to the fact that I couldn't sleep.  I knew Wisdom wasn't going to be happy with my irregular patterns, but she knew why I was doing what I did after I told her what happened.

Who the crap was knocking at this hour of the night?

Bubs lifted his head from its resting position and growled lowly.  I stood and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, exiting the kitchen to warily make my way into the foyer.  Hawke was descending the stairs as I did so, a ball of flame in his hand to shine a light in the darkness.  His eyes were half-closed and he was...

He was naked.

I slapped a hand over my eyes, but not fast enough to stop the image from searing permanently into my brain.  And with my memory, it would always,  **always** be there.  Lurking, haunting.  "Freaking hell,  _Hawke,_ put some clothes on!" I exclaimed the same moment he saw me and cried out in surprise.  The flame extinguished as he used both hands to cup his nether regions.  

"Alaran!  What the fuck?  Why are you up?"

"You're going to answer the door  _naked?"_

_"Why are you up?"_

"I was  _hungry!"_

There was another series of knocks.  I dropped my hand, pointedly looked away from Garrett's nudity, and grabbed an ax lying near Bodahn's wares in his and Sandal's little corner of the foyer.  If there were templars after me--after Hawke--I would cut them down.  

Bubba was behind me as I unbolted the door and slowly opened it.  Silver moonlight poured in first, then the shiny glint of metal--

My body flushed with adrenaline and I raised the ax high, preparing to bring it down on whoever was intending to take me away again.  Bubs ferociously snarled, ready to fight by my side without hesitation.

Then I saw borderline unruly, curly hair and a frightened face, their gauntleted hands lifted in surrender. 

It took me a few gulps of air to steady myself before I breathed out,  _"Cullen?"_

"Is that Rutherford?" Hawke called lightly as his bare feet slapped against the floor, signaling his approach.  "Tell him that the offer I gave still stands."

Even in the tense situation, the templar's cheeks flared red, making me wonder just  _what_ that offer was.  "I-I wasn't..." he sputtered lamely, unable to get his words out.  "It's not--don't panic, I--"

His words vanished entirely when I felt a warm body next to me.  I kept a straight face and an even straighter focus as Hawke stood by my side, proudly displaying his...manhood.  

The Champion easily leaned against the doorway.  "What can we do you for, Knight-Captain?  You're not planning on taking either one of us, are you?  Because if so, then I do believe we have a problem."

"I'm not--no!  I-if I was disturbing something, I-I'll come back later..."

I drug a hand down the side of my face as Bubs huffed a dog laugh.  "The only thing you interrupted was the late-night snack I was having in the kitchen.  Whatever Hawke was doing, I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to."

"I was--"

The back of my hand slapped his hairy chest to silence whatever he was going to say.  I had actually been meaning to talk to Cullen ever since he and Knight-Corporal Lynne smuggled me out of the Gallows, but due to our respective circumstances that was nearly impossible.  The danger posed too much of a threat to both our safety.  "Go back to bed, Garrett," I instructed, still not directly looking at him.

Out of my peripherals I saw him shrug.  "I'm not that tired, now, but food sounds nice at the moment."

"Don't eat my strawberries and cream."

"And have you put that ax in my skull?  I'd rather not take my chances."  

The statement made me realize that I did, in fact, still have a weapon in my grasp.  It didn't make me let go of it.

I stepped through, Bubs faithfully attached to my side, and gazed up at Cullen.  Hawke closed the door, but I could trust that the reason he was in the kitchen was so he could intervene if anything should go awry.  "So," I said with a curtness I didn't intend, "what do you want?"

Already I could see the beginning stages of a crestfallen demeanor in him.  To nip it in the bud, I silenced him by pressing my index finger against his lips.  "Wait, wait," I spoke, my voice seeming to get swallowed up by the night air.  "That's not how I wanted to start off."  I let my hand drop.  Cullen's blush had only deepened, but he let me continue.  "I'd like to thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, I'd like to thank you.  For everything."

I had always prided myself in being a good speaker, in getting my message and thoughts across clearly and decisively.  But in that moment, as I looked into the amber eyes of the man who had helped save my life, words refused to come forth.  

In the midst of my silence, Cullen reached into a pouch on the uniform he wore and fished out a small object.  My eyes widened when I saw just what it was. The moonlight bouncing off its facets gave it an almost unearthly, serene glow.  "This...I've been meaning to give you this," he stated, voice low and soft.

"You...you kept it?" I whispered, gingerly taking the broken geode from his hand.  "After all this time?"

"Of course."  Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, struggled to come up with the right words.  "At first I...hid it.  Just the sight made me want t-to...but after some time, I found it again while cleaning out the drawers in my desk a-and I had been meaning to give it to you, but you didn't return from the Deep Roads so I, ah...didn't."

For the first time in a long time, I outwardly grinned in wonder and happiness as I held my half of the geode up to the moonlight.  The elven vision I was gifted with allowed me to see the shimmering crystals more clearly, each detail glinting spectacularly.  

Emotions that were too mixed up and swirling together to be defined rose in both my chest and throat, making them ache and burn.

"Alaran?" Cullen asked worriedly.  "I-I'm so sorry, it was never my intention to make you--"

"Too late," I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks.  I never could get the same grip on my emotions as I had before the Gallows experience.  Sometimes I could, and sometimes I couldn't.  The latter resulted in situations...like this.  

Bubs whined and bumped his head against my thigh in condolence.  I clasped my free hand over wet eyes and waited for the internal storm to pass, too weary to let Cullen's presence shame me into an attempt of stifling it.  I only hoped that it didn't make him uncomfortable enough to moonwalk away.

 _That_ thought made me laugh, which in turn only added to the confusing state I was in.  Because I had laughed in the first place, it made me laugh even more.  Within moments I was doubled over, cackling and crying simultaneously.  Bubba was a pal and licked my face, adding to the sloppy mess of salt water and snot on my skin.  "Are...you alright?" Cullen eventually questioned uncertainly.  "I-I can go, if you'd prefer."

"No," I breathed as I pushed Bubs' massive head out of the way, still half-sobbing, half-chuckling.  It took a few swallows to get my mind straight again.  "Sorry, Cullen," I apologized as I tried wiping my face dry with the back of the sleeve on the robe I was wearing.  "I'm just...it's hard to be normal after something traumatic."  I allowed myself another, sadder laugh.  "But I suppose I never was normal in the first place."

"...I know what you mean.  About the struggle of trying to go back to normalcy after an experience so horrendous it seemed as if the world could never go back to being the same, again."

I paused and looked back to the templar standing a few feet away.  It was apparent that he had aged.  There were more pronounced dark circles under his eyes, as well as an aura of fatigue that no amount of sleep could cure.  "Kinloch Hold," I whispered as memories and details of the Broken Circle flooded into my mind.  "I had...you were tortured there."

Cullen stiffened, suspicion glinting in his eyes.  "How did you know that?" he questioned warily.  

A cool breeze carried the smell of oncoming rain, leaving us to wonder what kind of storm it would become.  "You probably already read whatever report was on me," I answered slowly.  The geode rolled in my palm as I spoke.  "So you most likely know that even though I have no magical qualities whatsoever--that I  _repulse_ them, in fact--it still didn't stop me from spending years in the Fade."  My lie became the truth, and my truth became the lie.  "There's no conception of time, there, but there are imprints of strong events and scenes that can be viewed.  Kinloch Hold, during the time the Warden intervened to restore order, was one of those occurrences."  My head tipped back, eyes filling with sympathy.  "You were there.  I saw what they did to you, to your friends.  How they used everything you cherished against you."  

He was shaking his head to ward off his own thoughts more than my sentences.  "Sometimes, when the lyrium nightmares...I swear I'm back in the Circle," Cullen confessed.  "Few people know of what happened to me there."

I turned my head to the moon hanging in the sky, the approaching clouds reaching out to cover it and the stars scattered across the inky dark.  "I hate it when you're going about your day, mind  _completely_ on other subjects, and all of a sudden you can  _feel_ their touch on you, the pain as fresh as it was on the day you received it."

"Their voices, you can sense it on your skin," Cullen added.  "And it makes your flesh crawl, no matter how hot the temperature may be."

Somehow, the two of us wound up on the porch in front of the Hawke estate.  Cullen had taken his gauntlets off and was playing with Bubs' jowls while I continued to examine the geode with fascination.  It was too late for either of us to be up, but mutual understanding of the reasons why we couldn't sleep kept us from saying anything about it.  "I've always wanted a Mabari," Cullen said with a faint smile.  "They're good dogs."

"He's  _alright,"_ I corrected with a smirk.  Bubberston huffed at me accusingly.  "He's pretty smelly."

"Don't listen to her," Cullen cooed.  "You're a war dog.  They're not supposed to smell like roses, are they?"

Bubs licked his face in agreement.  Cullen sputtered and laughed.  I had to glance at him as he did so.  I...I didn't think I had ever heard him laugh, before.  

I pursed my lips together to keep from spewing what the future held for him, for the templars, for the mages, for everybody.  What was his fate going to be, after everything was done?

Cullen caught me staring at him and blushed, quickly averting his gaze back down to Bubba and firmly fixing it there.  Oh.  I supposed my stare might have been misconstrued as something other than a remorseful expression.  

Hm.

"Were you scared for a long while after?" I found myself asking when the silence became too drawn-out.  

"Yes," he replied softly.  "And it almost consumed me."

"How did you get through it?"

"Why do you want to know?"  It was a cautious question.  He was throwing up his guards, his walls.  I knew that move too well.

"Because it may help me get through my own."

Cullen looked back to me once more, his jaw set and face grim.  "Believe me, Alaran, when I say that you do not want to know how I coped."

At one point, perhaps, I would have thrown all of his possible unethical deeds back in his face.  But after what I had been through myself, I understood.  In some way, I understood.  In Thedas, there was nobody to talk to--or at least not somebody who was a therapist or a psychologist of the like.  And I doubted Cullen would  _want_ to go and see one if it was possible.  So for all these years since, he still had something dying in his mind, trying to claw its way to the surface where it would then break him for good.  He tried to suppress it through actions he thought would make managing easier; instead, though, things just got worse.

"If you do ever need to talk about it," I said, patting a hand on Cullen's bent knee, "I'm here.  We're all here."

"What do you mean?"

I gestured to Hawke's estate behind us.  "We've all gone through traumatic experiences, so we know where you're coming from.  To a degree, at least."  Then I said to Cullen the four words everybody in the world wanted and needed to hear.  

"You are not alone."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was coming, you all knew.


	18. Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the title is plenty enough of a summary

The rain hadn't stopped pouring for about a week, now.  Unsurprisingly, it still couldn't cleanse Kirkwall of the tense situation between the mages and the templars.  I could practically feel the Veil thinning from the strain all the emotions the residents were putting on it.  That worried me; when Hawke sided with the mages--I was almost positive he would--and all hell would break loose, demons of all manner would pounce on the opportunity to cross into the Waking World.  Not to mention that there would be some escaping from the mages who resorted to blood magic out of fear. The presence of demons would add to the hysteria, of course, but...

They may recognize me.

In the Fade, the demons tended to stay away from me because Bod was such a baddie, but they always watched from distance, waiting for a moment of weakness.  And they were in my dreams frequently, twisting my mind and pressing me to give in.  Because if I was possessed, I wouldn't have to worry about lying, anymore, or about the mental and emotional pain I constantly dealt with.

That brought up another question.  Where would I choose to be when everything went to shit?  Holed up in the house?  Out fighting with Hawke?  Helping those who needed a safe place to hide?  

_Or I could just leave._

No.  I wouldn't do that.  Kirkwall had, in some weird way, become my home.  I wasn't going to abandon it.  

And after everything was said and done?  What then?

I guessed we would see.

"Oh, you poopy face," I grumbled to Bubs as he sat staunchly on the floor, unwilling to come out into the downpour.  I could already feel the rim of my hat drooping from it. My feet were growing colder as each second passed, footwraps soaking up the water on the ground.  "Please?   _Pllleeeaassee_ come with me?  Why do I even have to beg in the first place?  You're  _supposed_ to be my loyal guardian?"

Bubs cocked his head indifferently and huffed.  Damn.  The guilt-trip hadn't worked.  "What will it take to get you to accompany me?" I finally questioned, defeated.  

He looked at me with his too-intelligent eyes, practically saying,  _you know what._

I rolled my head back and groaned loudly, only to sputter at the rain pelting on my face and threatening to go up my nose.  "Alright,  _fine."_ I placed my closed basket of food next to Bubs, trusting him to not eat it.  

Then, in the rain and just outside of Hawke's front door, I began to clap my hands in a fast rhythm.  Immediately the Mabari's tail began wagging back and forth.  I really,  _really_ hoped nobody was watching out their window to see what Garrett Hawke's assumed elven servant was up to.  

 _"Iiiiiiiiiiitt's...."_ I sang in a lively tune, drawing out the single word.  Bubs got to his feet and crouched forward, tongue lolling out and butt shaking from side-to-side with excitement.   _"Super-bubber-frag-ilistic-expi-ali-docious!"_ I clapped, dancing and spinning around in the rain.   _"Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious!  If you say it loud enough, you'll always sound precocious!  SUPER-BUBBER-FRAG-ILISTIC-EXPI-ALI-DOCIOUS!"_

Bubba barked and ran out to join me in the street, jumping around me ecstatically.  I did the  _um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay_ part and got to the next verse.   _"Because I was afraid to speak when I was just a lad,"_ I sang in a terrible Cockney accent, pointing a finger at my dog and bouncing from foot to foot with accompanying hip movements, " _My father gave me nose a tweak and told me I was bad!"_ I tried grabbing for Bubs' nose like I always did when I sang that part, but he saw it coming and dodged away with a high-pitched bark.   _"But then one day I learned a word that saved me achin' nose!  The biggest word I ever heard, and this is how it goes!"_

I started clapping once more.  My hat had fallen off onto my back, making my hair cling to my scalp and getting my shoulders, neck, and face wet.   _"Super-bubber-frag-ilistic-expi-ali-docious!  Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious!  If you say it loud enough, you'll always sound precocious!  SUPER-BUBBER-FRAG-ILISTIC-EXPI-ALI-DOCIOUS!"_

We had a lot of time on our hands, alright?

The sound of poorly contained snickering made the two of us silence and spin around.  An annoying blush warmed the entirety of my upper body (which would have been nice, had it not signified complete and utter embarrassment) as I saw who had probably witnessed the whole show.

Sebastian Vael was covering his eyes with one hand as he full-out roared with laughter.  I scowled and firmly placed my hat back on top of my head and approached him.  "Oh, Maker!" he cried between laughs.  "What did I just  _watch?"_

"And what are you doing here?" I demanded, thumping a fist against his glorious breastplate.  The question slowly pulled Sebastian back to reality.  Like me, he was soaked head to toe, hair sleeked back without its usual spikiness.  

After a few swallows, Sebastian held out what was clutched in his other hand to me.  "I may or may not have seen these in a noble's courtyard and picked them.  I know you like lavender, and seeing as I was on my way to the Chantry to speak to Elthina anyhow, I figured it would be no trouble bringing them to you."  He grinned again.  "Little did I know that you would be doing... _that."_

I took the small bundle of lavenders with a begrudging smile and held the petals up to my nose, breathing in their theraputic scent.  "Thank you, Seb," I said, looking back to him.  "I was just heading out--"  He raised an eyebrow.  "-- _before_ I had to dance so Bubba would come with me--"  The eyebrow climbed higher.  "--because he disdains weather like this.  I think he knows that water washes away grime, so of course he would avoid that."  I got a nip on the calf for that comment.  "Ow!"  I shoved him away with my bare foot.  

"Ah, of course.  Makes perfect sense," Sebastian chuckled.  "Where were you planning on going?"

We started to walk back to the shelter of Hawke's estate.  The Champion wasn't inside; he was off doing something.  It was a miracle if he ever came back home before midnight, not completely exhausted and drained of everything.  He never liked to show it, but Hawke was slowly breaking under the weight on his shoulders.  It was only a matter of time before...

Before what?  What would break Hawke?  Better yet, would he choose to be broken?

"I was delivering some food to people in Darktown," I replied as I found a vase and poured it with a bit of water from the little basin sitting on the counter.  "The mage and templar conflict scared away a lot of people, including merchants who typically sell cheaper produce to customers.  And tomorrow I was going to go to the alienage, visit with Merrill and Arianni and stuff."

Sebastian's face softened as I spoke.  "You are very kind, Alaran," he complimented.  "The Maker needs His children to take care of others.  When I see Elthina, I'll alert her to the situation.  Maybe a few sisters will administer to them as best they can. "

He didn't see my expression darken at the mention of Elthina's name.

I set the vase of lavenders in the center of the table.  When I returned, I would take them up to my room and place them on my windowsill, next to the wooden carving of a pineapple and the half of a geode.  "That would be amazing, Sebastian.  Many people would appreciate that."

We walked back to the entrance, bracing ourselves for the rain once more.  I picked up the fairly large basket and propped it against a bony hip.  "Be careful out there, Alaran.  Kirkwall is..."

"Poop?"

"Very much so, yes.  In fact, I do believe at this point you could consider it diarrhea."

"It is that bad, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid it is."

A thousand poop jokes appeared in my mind, but I refrained from saying them out loud.  It would most likely result in blockage later on.  Okay, okay, I just had to get one out.  I needed to be regular.

I was too freaking funny.

We parted ways, and twenty minutes later I found myself ministering to those who needed food in Darktown with Bubs at my side.  The Mabari had grown large enough to now look intimidating.  So far, his stature had kept those seeking to do ill towards me at bay.  It was also the main reason why I left my greatsword at home.  Besides, I was helping those who were in a difficult situation, not intimidating or bullying.  Today, I wanted to come off as positive and peaceful.

When I went to Anders' clinic, I was informed that he had been out the whole day.  It was no surprise; he was probably off gallivanting with Hawke and doing who-knows-what, all the while remaining sour and cranky.

"What do you say,  _da'falon?"_ I asked Bubs as I looked into my empty basket.  "Should we--"

"Everybody!" a young boy screamed from the lift that transported people to and fro between here and Lowtown.  He was sopping wet, the whites of his eyes visible even from where I stood.  "The Champion is going to the Gallows!  Meredith and Orsino 'ave gone mad!  I sawr 'em leaving!"

Usually, somebody would have screamed a "piss off!" at the boy's declaration.  But the residents of Darktown specifically suffered the most due to the conflict between the Knight-Commander and the Grand Enchanter.  "What's gon' happen?" another person asked tentatively amidst the low, anxious murmuring.

All eyes turned to me.  I was known even here as Hawke's servant, despite the fact that I  _really wasn't._ "What's he gonna do, serah?" a young woman asked, dirt streaking her face to hide her youth and beauty from those who would want to take it.

"Something that will have  _a lot_ of repercussions," I answered.  Then, in a louder voice, I said, "Find shelter immediately.  Whatever you do, don't go outside, unless you want to put your life at stake, especially those here who are apostates.  The Veil will become thin; you know what that means."  Several faces either turned grim or paled.  "Now hurry.  I don't know how much time you will have before Kirkwall becomes chaos."

As Darktown burst into commotion, I rushed up to the boy who had first announced what was going on and gripped his arm.  "Did you see a man with dark red hair and a bow and arrow with them?" I questioned as calmly as I could.  Which, unfortunately, wasn't very calm.

"Gerroff me, knife--"

My grip tightened so harshly the boy yelped.  It was more in surprise than pain, but it got his attention.  "Answer me," I said, not exactly growling but still sounding anything but nice.  

"N-no!  No, I dinnit, I swear!"

I shoved the basket in his hands and took off, leaping onto the lift with Bubba.  I cranked it up as quickly as I could, breaths coming in sharp, panicked breaths.  "Stupid, stupid Sebastian," I lowly said to myself.  Somehow I just  _knew_ he was still at the Chantry.

When the lift  _clanged_ as it latched into position I flew into the street, my hat tearing itself off my head and lightly tightening the cord it was tied to against my throat.  It made too much wind resistance, so I threw it off and into a nearby box of crates.  If I lived, I would come back for it.  Now, though, I had to get to the Chantry as fast as possible.  Sebastian  _had_ to live, didn't he?  He was going to become King of Starkhaven.  His life  _couldn't_ end here.

Making a noise in the back of my throat, I sped through Lowtown. Legs carrying me faster than they ever had before, rain pelting so smartly they felt like needles driving into my skin.  The sky overhead was so stormy it was almost black, darkening the world around me.  Lightning and thunder coincided almost simultaneously.  The current setting was not geared towards a happy ending.

Great.

Out of nowhere, a dark figure with white hair rounded the corner, nearly running into me.  "Fenris!" I outright shouted, losing my traction on the slick mud and slipping to the ground.  I caught myself with a hand, feeling my flesh scrape and tear.

"Alaran!"  Fenris hurriedly lifted me back up.  "You need to get back to the house.   _Now."_

"I-I can't.  I have to go get Sebastian!"  I made myself vulnerable for the sake of telling the truth.  In a time like this, I didn't have the talent to be dishonest.  

"I already tried getting him!  He's refusing to leave Elthina's side so he can protect her in case something happens."  

I shook my head stubbornly, making Fenris snarl exasperatedly.  "No.  I have to go get him."

 _"Why?_ Why, Alaran?"

"Because!" I screamed, yanking away from his grip and backtracking.  My body was coiling to launch back into a sprint.  Before I turned, though, I got one last image of Fenris.  He had his arm halfway outstretched, wearing a twisted, desperate expression.  "Bubs," I commanded.  "Go with Fenris."

He whined, but it was silenced by my sharp look.  I placed my hand atop his head, tears welling in my eyes.  I didn't know if my pursuit would be in vain; if so, I wanted my best friend to stay safe.   _"Ar lath ma,_ Bubberston," I choked.  Then I pointed to the other elf.  "Go."

With a drooping head, Bubba went to Fenris' side.  Turning around and keep heading to the Chantry was probably one of the hardest things I ever had to do.  

 _I'm not going to make it in time,_ I thought to myself as I reached the stone staircase leading to Hightown.   _I'm not going to make it in time._

_Why am I even doing this?  Obviously if Sebastian was in the Chantry at this time, he was meant to be._

_But because_ you're  _here, he was.  If you weren't here, Sebastian never would have taken the time to sneakily pick lavenders out from some noble's garden.  He wouldn't have stopped to watch you sing and dance with Bubs in the rain.  He wouldn't have wanted to talk to Elthina about planning to send aid to those suffering in Lowtown.  He should have been out and alerted to the situation in the Gallows, if it wasn't for you._

That realization made me press even harder.  

Hightown was empty, either from feeling that shit was about to go down or solely from the horrendous thunderstorm.  Harsh wind clawed at my tunic, and my feet were burning from the cold and the running I had done.  My throat was raw from the frigid air I had been sucking in for the past five or so minutes.  Oh, holy freak, how much ground had I covered?  Two miles or so?  In  _five minutes?_ If I hadn't been so concerned about getting to Sebastian, I would have basked in that realization.

The Kirkwall Chantry came into view from the gloom and dark, looking like it belonged to the storm rather than standing against it.  I fruitlessly wiped away rainwater from my eyes and kept going.   _Not gonna make it, not gonna make it, not gonna make it._

Somehow, in some insane way, I managed to reach the heavy Chantry doors.  I burst through, screaming, "Sebastian!" My voice was shrill and terrified.

He raced to the edge of the second tier of the building, leaning over the railing.  "Alaran?  What's the matter?"

Before he could finish his question I was already halfway up the flight of stairs, reaching out to him.  It was hard to believe that I made it far enough to latch onto his arm.  "We have to--"

The ground began to rumble.  "Elthina!" Sebastian exclaimed, turning and trying to rip free from my grip.  The Grand Cleric was on the other side of the tier.  Twenty feet of empty space separated us.

I wouldn't let go, though, and tried dragging him back down the stairs. But the air filled with a thick, sweet-smelling odor, crawling into my nostrils and the back of my throat.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian," I muttered so softly I didn't know if he heard.  All I could do was put my arms around him and squeeze.  He knew what was about to happen, too, and reciprocated by pulling the two of us to the ground and sheltering me with his own body.  A blast searing my vision rocketed through the center of the Chantry, silencing all noise except for a single, melodious, horrifying sound.

I was...scared.

Then the world was nothing but red.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough cough* so yeah we all knew something like this would happen.
> 
> And yes, I have been on a bit of a Marry Poppins kick, so the version of the song Alaran sang to her Mabari was destined to be.


	19. Our Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The showdown

"Alaran..." Fenris whispered, voice swallowed up by the rain and the screams coming from all across Kirkwall.  

They watched in complete horror as the red light of the explosion hailed down fiery bits of debris, demolishing all in its path. 

"Maker have mercy," Meredith said, red reflecting in her blue eyes. 

"There could be no peace," Anders stated emptily.   

Fenris heard nothing after that.  The buzzing noise in his head, in his bones, prevented him from doing such.  It couldn't be possible.  She had made it out.  She had made it out with Sebastian, and she was safe.

Beside him, her dog slumped on the ground and whimpered so sorrowfully Fenris just... _knew_ that Alaran had still been in there.

He didn't speak until both the templars and mages were gone, leaving none but them and Orsino.  "So it's come to this," the Grand Enchanter spoke morosely.  He turned to Hawke.  "I don't know if we can win this war, Champion, but...thank you.  I will leave your... _friend..._ for you to deal with.  I must return to the Gallows.  Meet me there as soon as you can."

Fenris looked back to the sky.  The storm had lessened in its downpour and instead took on an unearthly yellow glow on its belly, swirling with the same color of red as that was seen in the explosion.

Before Hawke could approach Anders, Fenris swooped in and hauled the apostate up by his collar.   _"You,"_ he seethed viciously.  "Do you not realize what you have done?!"

"Fenris, stop!" Hawke exclaimed.  

He was ignored.  "She was in there!  SHE WAS IN THE CHANTRY!"

"W-who was?" Anders coughed, hardly even attempting to break free.  Like he already knew this would be Fenris' reaction.

 _"Alaran!"_ he roared, hurling Anders to the ground.  Sickening pleasure filled some of the hole in his heart at the sight of the mage's shocked and horrified visage.  "Alaran and Sebastian were in there!  You killed your own two friends in hopes of  _proving a point!"_

When he looked back to everybody else, their expressions were in no less of a state.  

"B...but she was in the house when I left," Hawke muttered vacantly, eyes faraway. His knees trembled beneath him, like he was on the verge of collapse.

"I-I had no idea," Anders said frantically, lucidity surfacing in his brown eyes.  "I swear!"

No, of course he couldn't.  But Fenris had seen that resolve in her too-violet eyes when they crossed paths.  There would have been no swaying her.

How...how did she  _know_ Sebastian would be in danger, though?  That sending her dog with him would prevent its death?

What had Alaran hid?

"Was she aware of your intentions?" Fenris asked furiously, foot itching to kick Anders in the ribs.

"W...no!  Maker, no!"  Anders sat back up.  His eyes met Hawke's, face forming back into placidity.  "There's nothing you can say that I already haven't said to myself."  He moved to slump down on a crate, back turned to all of them.  "I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this.  This is the Justice all mages have awaited.  And..."

_And Alaran._

"How could you, Anders?" Aveline spoke softly, knowing what he was going to say before he had trailed off.  "She wouldn't have wanted any of this."

"...I know.  But the world needed to see this.  Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution.  If I pay for that with my life then I pay.  Perhaps then, Justice would at least be free."

"Hawke, you're not seriously considering  _siding_ with him, are you?" Fenris grated disbelievingly.  "He's killed two of our friends, as well as hundreds of other innocent people!  He's started a  _war."_

"War was already coming," Anders snapped.  "In case you couldn't tell."

"Do you feel no remorse for what you've done?  People you  _knew_ were in there!"  Fenris' shouts were falling onto deaf ears.  He pulled out one of the knives strapped to his waist and started to approach, fully prepared to finish Anders.  They had lost Alaran once, and just when they were beginning to get used to having her around for a long while after, he took her away.  _He took her away._

Hawke's hand landed on Fenris' shoulder, stopping him in his place.  "No."  Though the Champion wasn't directly looking at him, the single word was meant for Fenris' ears. 

"You can't--"

"I.  Said.   _No."_  When Hawke did look to Fenris, his eyes were pure gold, blazing and breaking.  "I cannot handle the death of another friend."  He turned his gaze to Anders.  "Leave.  Now.  Before I change my mind."

Anders stood silently.  "I am sorry," he offered before departing into the back alleys of Kirkwall.

Then Fenris and everybody else were the only ones left. 

Hawke took his staff and held it ready, face unreadable.  "Let's go," he commanded, leading the way and knowing everybody else would follow.  They all wanted to mourn, to give in and grieve as they had before when they thought Alaran was lost in the Deep Roads.  If Sebastian had just  _come_ with Fenris, then she would still be alive--they would both still be alive.

But he couldn't blame the prince, not when Sebastian was dead.

That was it, though.  Fenris couldn't blame anybody.  Not himself, not Anders, nobody.  All he could do was face the fact that she...

She was gone.

Perhaps that was the reason for the inexplicable hollowness that left him more burdened than before.

-

"Um, you're supposed to be dead," Knight-Corporal Lynne said as she hoisted me up from the swirling gray we found ourselves in.  Where were we?  There was nothing to be seen, for miles and miles. "But alas, I gotta save yo ass.  Ha!  I'm hilarious.  Seriously, though.  What were you thinking?  Don't you know what you're supposed to be a part of?"  She conked the side of my head with the flat of her palm.  "Get your shit together!"

I gaped at her for a moment before my mind went into overdrive, thankfully connecting with my mouth.  "Where am I?  Who are you, really?  What am I supposed to be a part of?  Is Sebastian okay?  What--"

"Ooh, gotta run," she interrupted, flashing a shit-eating, crooked smirk.   _"But_ to answer your questions, you're in the in-between, my name is Hallah Lynne and I'm not really a templar, you're going to be part of something great, Choir Boy is just dandy--I had to save him too, of course--and you should be heading back right about now!  I'll be seeing you soon!" 

Hallah Lynne gave me a forceful shove with both her hands and sent me spinning backwards, falling into nothingness...

-

...And cracking my eyes open.  My vision was familiarly blurred; it could only require thick glasses to clear up.  Worse, my lungs burned to the point I felt like I was suffocating.  Oh, no.  I was in my old body again and I was dying and--

Then everything cleared, leaving me with a sore back and a pounding headache.  I wearily lifted my arm and patted the back of the man laying atop me, relief rushing through my system when I felt him breathing steadily.  "S...Sebastian," I whispered hoarsely.  "You...you have to get up, bud."

My gaze lifted to the open sky above me, feeling droplets of water splash against my face.  The storm had devolved into a drizzle, but the clouds glowed with yellow and red hues.  It was most likely due to the abnormal explosion that tore through the air just...what?  Moments ago?  Minutes?  Hours?

I nudged Sebastian again, hoping to stir him.  When a groan was offered in response, I began to dread what would come next.  He would see... _I_ would see what became of the Chantry.  And I would be questioned as to how we survived when it was clearly obvious nobody else did.

I couldn't bother to feel fear.

Sebastian lifted his head high enough to gaze back into mine.  Ash and grime covered the half of his face that had been exposed to the explosion.  Bewilderment and encroaching horror shone in his eyes.  There was nothing that I could say to prepare him for what he was about to see, so I chose to remain silent.  

Beholding a man who had to realize that everything he loved around him was just... _gone..._ wasn't something one took pleasure in doing.  Yet that was what I had to do, watch as Sebastian's entire being shattered into infinite pieces.  Hearing his cries and his wails and his broken prayers.  Smelling the charred flesh of those he loved, too burnt to even be considered bodies anymore.  

I placed a hand on Sebastian's shoulder and crawled forward to kneel beside him.  "She was His most beloved," he wept raggedly, gazing at the wreckage Grand Cleric Elthina's remains were undoubtedly under.  "His most holy!  Why?   _Why?"_

At some point I had pulled him into my embrace, holding the back of his head and fluttering my eyes shut, unable to bear looking at the world around us.  Nobody should have to go through this pain.  Nobody.   

When Sebastian pulled away, I knew what he was going to ask.  "H...how did you know?"

A lie easily came to my lips, ready to pour out poisonous honey.  And...and I let it.  "I had little idea of what was going happen until just a short while ago.  I-I knew Anders was up to something, but--"

Sebastian paled, betrayal dulling his electric blue eyes.  "A-Anders?   _Anders_ did this?"

My answer was a single heavy nod.  One day, the lies I told would come crashing down and suffocate me, as well as everybody I loved and cared for.  

"Why?"

"I don't know.  Probably...probably to prove a point."  My stomach twisted at my deception.  What I was saying--what I was  _doing--_ wasn't right.  Yet I couldn't stop it.

I was then regarded with suspicion.  Sebastian slightly pulled away from me.  "How is it that we are the only two who've survived?"

Words failed to come for a several moments.  With each breath that remained silent, the prince's view of me began to change into something I didn't want.  Eventually, all I was able to lamely say was, "There's somebody protecting me.  Protecting us."

"And just who is that?  The Maker?  Holy Andraste?"  His questions were biting.  "Just who  _are_ you, Alaran?"

"Someone who deserves to be protected," a smooth voice cut in.  We both turned to see the woman I had encountered in limbo just a minute or so ago.  She tutted, casting her emerald green eyes down to Sebastian.  "You weren't supposed to take this route.  Then I wouldn't have had to come at all."

"K-Knight-Corporal Lynne--"

"Oh come now, Sebastian, you know who I am.  You just chose to forget when you saw me last."  Hallah Lynne's smile was too old to be mortal and too natural to be entirely human.  Who  _was_ she?

He eyes then moved to me.  "There will be too many questions.  Having them know where you are from will create something bad for Thedas.  And we can't have that, can we?"  She crossed her arms under her breasts, covering up the  _I <3 Deadpool _print on her t-shirt.  "So I'm going to have to tinker with Sebastian's mind, okay?"

"What?  No!" I immediately started to protest.  It was a struggle to stand and face her, and when I did I found that she towered over me.  "You can't--"

Beside me, Sebastian crumpled to the ground.  Hallah flicked her eyes back and forth, thick black lashes moving slightly with the motion.  "Just did.  Don't worry, though; I just switched things up so you guys were right outside the Chantry running to meet Hawke in Lowtown when the explosion happened.  Knocked him unconscious, he awoke to mourn, and then passed back out again due to the stress of it all.  I'll help you move him down to the bottom of the stairs--"

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I demanded.  This lady--whoever she may be--was seriously pissing me off.  "You can't just go wiping people's memories because it suits you better!"

"It doesn't suit me at all," Hallah replied with a short sigh.  She picked Sebastian up and threw him over her shoulder like a sack of Starkhaven potatoes.  "Do you think I  _want_ to do it?  I'm just watching out for you, Annabelle."

I stopped short, breath catching.  She strode past with ease, waving a nonchalant hand in the air.  "To be honest, I like the name Alaran better.  Then you don't have to be constantly reminded that you were named after your psychotic alcoholic grandmother who died in an orgy with twenty-year-old men."

"Heyy," I called out, catching up with her.  "My grandma may have been crazy, but what a way to go, right?  And I don't think we should be talking about this at the moment.  Because, in case you didn't see,  _we're in the middle of the Chantry wreckage."_

"Sorry, ma'am."  Hallah gave me a sidelong glance as we stepped over the blackened rubble.  "It's not your fault, you know.  This was supposed to happen.  If it didn't, the Circle would have gotten annulled and Kirkwall would have fallen.  Hawke would have perished trying to save mages.  Merrill would have become an abomination when she could no longer resist the demons.  Varric would lose his right arm in a fight with templars.  Meredith would siege control of the city and ally with Corypheus in the following years.  Sebastian would die before he became king and Starkhaven would be plunged into a civil war with Ostwick, decimating crops and sending the Free Marches and half of Ferelden into a shortage of food supply for years after."  She gave a small shake of her head.  "I know this seems horrible now, Alaran, but believe me, I've seen the alternative."  Her head tilted up to the unnatural, swirling clouds above.  "And it was far worse.  You made the right decision.  And I'm backing you up for it, which is why I'm doing what I am now.  And that is carrying a royal ass over my shoulder."

I let Hallah's words sink in, mind unable to choose between shutting down completely or overthinking everything.  When we reached the bottom of what was left of the stairs in the Chantry courtyard, Sebastian was carefully laid down onto the still-damp stone.  Fires blazed across Hightown and Lowtown, illuminating the streets with twisted light.  I could already hear terror spreading throughout the city.  "The Veil's thinner than dollar store toilet paper," I commented as I knelt down beside Sebastian.  Hallah experimentally poked her finger in the air.  Reality seemed to  _bend_ around her tip for a split second before it tore through, disappearing into a tiny, Fade-green hole.  She hissed and yanked it back out, face contorted into a comical grimace.  

"Shitsicles," she swore as she hurriedly patched it back up.  I gaped at her.  Had she...had she just  _poked a hole_ in the Veil?  "Don't tell Solas I did that, mmkay?  He would greatly disapprove."  Hallah brushed her hands on her pants legs and straightened.  "It was nice talking with you, kiddo.  Stay safe.  When the time is right, I'll answer more of your questions."

"No, wait a second--!  Aaaand she's gone."  I sighed and bowed my head, letting reality envelope my body once more.  The situation was...grim.  I had no idea when Sebastian would wake up, the area would be crawling with demons any minute, and soon we would be caught in the crossfire between mages or templars or both.  So yeah.  Thanks Hallah--who I was beginning to think that she was somebody, like, super powerful or something--for leaving us in the middle of it all.

What a douche canoe.  

-

"Serah Lavellan, what in the world is going on out there?" Bodahn proclaimed as Sebastian and I stumbled through the door to the Hawke estate.  It had been far enough away that it didn't get blasted to bits during the explosion.  I counted that as a small blessing.

"The Chantry is gone," I explained as I helped my companion into a chair.  "Most of the northern end of Hightown, too.  Knight-Commander Meredith has gone mad.  Demons and abominations and renegade templars and everything in between are running amok in the city.  Sebastian's dazed and confused, Hawke is out there somewhere with everybody trying to restore order, and a lady with a Mohawk saved my life."

Beside Bodahn, Sandal clapped his hands together happily.  I raised a gritty eyebrow at him.  "You know her, don't you, Sandal?"

"Otherworld!"

"Right.  Of course you do.  How could you not."

"Alaran, I'm fine," Sebastian said, trying to sound well and strong but failing miserably.  I supposed that's what happened when freaking _memories_ were erased from your mind.  "I...I need to go with you.  I need to see him  _pay."_

He hadn't forgotten that part about Anders, then.  

"No, you're not fine, Seb. You need to stay here and rest--"

"You don't understand--"

My face was suddenly inches from his. The same grime and pain and fear streaked our skin.  "Just try me," I whispered softly.  "I already saved you, once."  Not exactly true.  "I don't think I'd be able to save you again, with the state you're in.  You are to stay here, Sebastian Vael.  Your kingdom will need you, and your friends will need you.  I am almost positive they think us to be dead.  Let's not make that a reality, shall we?"

I certainly received a royal glower, but I had gotten the message across to Sebastian.  I stood straight and briskly walked upstairs to my room where I put on my armor and strapped my greatsword to my back at record speed.  Then I was back off into the streets...with no idea as to what I was doing.

Crap on a corndog.

What  _was_ I doing?

I'd get to answering that later, much as I did in life.

The first thing I came across were a few demons.  They were only lesser shades, so I managed to dispatch them fairly easily and earning only a few scratches on my arms.  A little healing potion would clear it right up, but unfortunately I was severely lacking in the potions department.  Great.  Hawke and everybody managed to go so long because they  _had_ such things, whereas all that was on me was Essence of Chantry.  And I had to get all the way to the Gallows from Hightown with all sorts of riffraff in between.  Unlike in the game, I couldn't just pick some up in random crates or loot helpful things off of dead bodies.  Not only that, but I didn't have an entire team to back me up.  I was riding solo.

I mean, not that I would  _mind_ riding Solo.  He could take me on a cruise in the Millenium--

"Arrgh!  Focus!" I growled loudly to myself.  Now was  _not_ the time to be going off on tangents.

"Well, isn't it little Alaran," a desire demon purred as I came to another group.  I had made it to Lowtown without too much conflict, but I knew that once I reached this part of the city things would get worse.  "We certainly didn't think we'd see you here.  My, how many spirits miss you.  It's--"

I chopped her head off, adding spirit essence to the list of all things unsavory on my skin.  That set the rest into a swarming fervor.  The thing about demons was that they didn't follow the bad-guy rules by attacking me one at a time.  Their methods were harsh and savage with no tactics except to destroy.  I quickly realized that I was going to be overwhelmed because they kept coming and coming with no end.

A blade swept in and lopped off a demon's arm that was latching itself onto me.  I screamed--and by screamed I mean bellowed because that's what warriors do--and lunged back into action.  I was tempted to go all-out and unleash the building frenzy inside me, but if I did I would waste all of my stamina.  So I held it back and relied on the hulking Tal-Vashoth next to me.  Though plenty of years had gone by since we last crossed paths, I still clearly recognized him. 

"Saam!" I grinned wolfishly.  "Good to see ya!"

"Less talk, more fighting," he grunted as he stabbed with his spear.  With him at my side the demon killing went a lot faster.  I received a cut on my thigh that hurt like a bitch and bled too much to be a good sign, but I remained steadfast and didn't fall on my butt to check it out until everything was dead around us.  

The Tal-Vashoth knelt beside me.  "The wound is deep," he observed.  

"Yeah, but I don't think it hit an artery," I replied back, hissing between my teeth as I prodded the wound.  "Man, these were my favorite leggings."

"What is an artery?"

"It's something that pumps blood through our body, in simple terms.  I don't know the exact definition because I never went to med school.  Do you have an injury kit or five health potions?  Or...something of the like?"

Saam grunted and proceeded to pull out a kit from the small pack slung over his shoulder.  "What is this "med school" you speak of?"

I sighed.  "It's a place in my world where people go to learn about healing and medicine."

Another grunt.  I bandaged my leg up as best I could and stood, testing how much pressure I could put on it before it gave out.  Shit.  I was hindered.  "Your world?"

"Yep," I grimaced as I used my greatsword for support. With my free hand I flipped off the unnatural, stormy sky.  "Go suck an egg, Hallah Lynne! I'm gonna tell somebody!"

"Hallah Lynne?   _Herah Kaaras?"_

"Oh and why shouldn't you know who she is," I groaned.  "Yeah.  I'm almost positive she was the one who sent me here.   _Without_ my consent.  I mean, I probably would have come anyways but still."

Saam crossed his arms and grunted again.  "She weaves a Pattern only she can see.  Our mortal eyes aren't meant to see her Strings."

"So you're saying that there are strings on me after all?"  I blew out a breath.  "Great.  There goes my Ultron arc.  I'm going to ask you how you know her later, but right now...I need to get to the Gallows."

"I will escort you to the docks.  Without me, you will not make it."

"Thanks, pal."

And on that note, the two of us were off.  

-

 _"Row, row, row your boat,_  
_Gently down the stream!_  
_Merrily, merrily, merrily,_  
_Aveline is a queen."_

Note to self: rowing boats is a good form gaining upper body strength.

Also note to self: rowing boats  _suck._

I wasn't sure what I'd find at the Gallows.  I wasn't sure  _why_ I should go to the Gallows.  I could have just stayed at the estate and waited for Hawke to come back.  But if I had done so, a lot of people would have been dead because there was nobody to save them.  What can I say, Saam and I made a good rescue squad.  

Or maybe I was rowing just because I couldn't miss out on witnessing a pivotal moment in Thedas history.  Either way, I was going.  Injured more than I should be, but still.

When my boat bumped against the docks to the Gallows, I scrambled out and began limping towards the courtyard, the sounds of battle echoing across the stonework.  Injured templars gathered outside.  Instinctively I immediately thought to run the other way because they were my captors, my _torturers_...but upon seeing their weary, beaten faces and the sad, lost gazes in their eyes, I knew that they didn't have the strength or will to stop me.  

Their gazes were cast onto me as I walked. My own focus was straight ahead.  Resolve and grit and intensity sang in my blood, in my bones.  It steeled my grip on the hilt of my greatsword.  It numbed the pain in my leg and in my heart.

But when I saw everybody battling giant statues, my brain kind of went blank for a moment.  I had _totally_ forgotten about those.  The pause was just for a moment, though, because shit needed to get done.

 _"Alaran?"_ Varric exclaimed as I momentarily stopped next to him to gather my bearings.  "We thought--"

"I'm invincible," I stated blandly, preparing to dive in.  My smirk betrayed the tone of my voice.  I looked down at my dwarf.  "Put that in your book."

He chuckled as he fired rounds into a statues head, trying to keep it from staggering nearer to us.  "Will do, Al.  Will do!"

I had taken to giving a war cry before I plunged into battle.  So, naturally, that was exactly what I did, and chopped through one of its legs, praying that my blade wouldn't break against the stone it was made out of.  Luckily, it didn't, and when it fell sideways Varric put an explosive bolt through its head.

One by one, my friends rejoiced in seeing me amidst the warring going down.  I was just glad that there wasn't the same reaction like when I came back from the dead the first time.  I was simply handed a health potion, got a slap on the back, and continued to battle freaking animated statues, faithfully aided by my wonderful Mabari.  He was the happiest--and also the angriest--to see me.  At one point I was fighting Knight-Commander Meredith herself.  Her fighting skills were wicked and fueled by red lyrium.  The corruption in her was so strong even I could feel its effect on me.  That effect being syrup-arms.  And, like,  _how did it give her superpowers?_ She was jumping from place to place so rapidly it was hard to combat her long enough to get a good blow in.  So I figured that instead of running around and depleting my energy chasing her, I would leap into attack whenever she got near.  The adjusted tactic improved the chance of wearing her down, but it was still everything but easy.

The whole thing was long and grueling, and more than once my leg gave out from under me.  Health potions helped, but because of my movement the wound kept opening back up.  Stupid damn demons.  They were a crock of shit.

My breath was stolen from me as I was sideswiped by a statue and egg rolled onto the ground.  "I will  _not_ be KO'd!" I snarled, struggling to get back up and defend myself.  My leg was covered in blood, both dry and fresh.  It should be inside me, not outside. 

An arm wrapped around my waist and lifted me back up in time to avoid a statue's closed fist.  I looked up into the jade green eyes of Aveline, Captain of the Guard.  "My queen," I half-wheezed as weight was shifted back onto my leg and my lungs began to function once more.  "You're so amazing, Aveline.  Did you know that?"

"Yes," she said staunchly, factually.  "Now fall back; you shouldn't have been fighting in the first place."

"No, I'm staying here and--"

"I got her," Cullen grumbled, swiftly crouching down so his arm could take Aveline's place.  It earned a snarl from Bubs but nothing more.  He lifted me off my feet and carried me to the back courtyard wall, unceremoniously dropping me against it.  "Stay put.  That's an order."

"I am  _not_ a templar," I argued, already struggling to get back up.  "You can't tell me what to do, Noodle Head!"

"Yes, well, if you  _don't_ do what I say you're going to get killed, Booster Seat."

Cullen's retort stunned me so much I slumped back onto the ground.  He had snapped  _back?_   The revelation made me unable to react for longer than I cared to admit.  When I was able to function, again, the first things out of my mouth was, "They have  _booster seats_ in Thedas?"

But my leg was in bad condition.  Blood soaked all the way down to my ankle and into my boot, making it all sloshy and warm.  Ugh.  I knew I should have left them off.  The bandages Saam gave me should have been changed an hour ago, too.  I placed both hands over the injury to try and staunch the flow, but all of a sudden my head felt light and dizzy and my stomach began doing flips.   _Too much blood loss._ It worried Bubs, but all he could do was sit by my side and give small licks to my face.

I was still conscious to witness the last final moments of battle, right up until Meredith was transformed into a twisted lyrium statue, still captured in the horrid, burning scream that would ring in my ears when I slept for nights to come.  And the pulse she gave off in the Veil was...odd.  Tainted.

Blighted.

Which was peachy, obviously.

My eyes closed, briefly.  When I opened them, again, the templars were circled around Hawke and his companions.  The Champion stood bravely, and though I couldn't see his golden eyes I knew they were blazing.  

Then Cullen retreated.

Hawke turned around and strode away.  In my state of semi-consciousness, I was able to see a halo of...of _something_ around him.  It wasn't light, but it wasn't darkness, either.  It was a ripple in the air around him, a-a permanent mark in...

In History.

Was it the Veil's doing?  Was this great moment to be imprinted on it so spirits could forever recreate the scene that just occurred?  Or was it more?  Was it what Hallah Lynne saw?  The  _Herah Kaaras?_

He crossed over to where I was slumped and lifted me into his shaking, over-exerted arms.  Fenris followed up by grabbing my greatsword on the ground.  I instantly leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, knowing too well that I shouldn't but unable to stop myself.  I was pretty sure I  _wasn't_ going to die--if I was I would be pretty freaking pissed at myself--but all my energy was gone.  It was time for me to rest.

I came to on the boat ride back.  Isabela was finishing up putting new bandages on my leg.  From the tightness I felt around it, I could tell that elfroot poultice had been directly applied and stitched up thereafter.  

The only sounds was water swirling each time the paddles hit the surface and came back up.  I was no longer being held by Garrett; Bubs was using his thick body for me to rest on.  The Champion had taken up a seat at the front of the boat, shoulders hunched and head hung, but not low enough that he took his gaze off of the city in front of us. Kirkwall burning silhouetted his feature.  

Everybody else was in a similar state: eyes half-lidded and statures weighed down with exhaustion, lips straightened into thin lines with no promise of ever smiling again.  What they had been through--what  _we_ had been through--was enough trauma for multiple lifetimes.

So how did we do it?  How did we find ourselves here, when we could have bravely fallen in battle or turned our backs on everything so long ago?

There were many answers.  Some truer than others, perhaps, but at least one should have been able to give the reason as to why we were where we were.  

Whatever it was, I did not know.  And...I was okay with it.  Looking upon the individual faces of my friends, my family, I came to the conclusion that their reasons were solely their own.  Maybe they would never be shared, and maybe they would.  It wasn't up to me, nor would it ever be.  

I sat up so Bubs could settle his head in my lap, turning my attention to everybody as their focus was directed at the fallen city.  This...this was the end, wasn't it?  As soon as the wind picked up, we would scatter.

And where would the wind take me?  I could go with any of them, if I wanted to.  I could see Thedas, maybe help in some way.  I wasn't obliged to stay in Kirkwall, anymore.  The game was over.

This had never been a game, though.  It was harsh reality.  And harsh reality dictated that there were a lot of people who were going to need help in the weeks to come.  It also foretold that little help was going to be given.  I was just me, though; what aid could I possibly bring?

But that was it.  I was  _me._ Why couldn't I help?  It's all I ever wanted to do, when you got down to it.  

My blistered, cut, broken-fingered hand lightly stroked the top of Bub's head as I came to my decision, my reason.  

And my reason was mine alone.  

The boat was docked.  We got out silently, walking next to each other for the last time.  They would feel grief later, when their feet would no longer carry them, when their hearts were too heavy laden to bear with upright shoulders.  But they would go on.

We would go on.

The wind picked up, carrying them to new places, new stories.  Whenever I felt my heart ache because I missed them, the poem by Shel Silverstein came to mind.

 _There are no happy endings.  
_ _Endings are the saddest part,  
_ _So just give me a happy middle  
_ _And a very happy start._

Given to me it was.  Oh, it was.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter.
> 
> Also, Hallah Lynne is a butt wad. And "Herah Kaaras" = time navigator
> 
> Don't worry, lovelies, this isn't the last chapter. I'm probably going to keep the next part of Alaran's life still on this fic so all the parts to the "Wait, What?" series don't get convoluted. But it is almost the end of Alaran's time in Kirkwall. I'm probably going to do a couple more chapters before I kick into...THE INQUISITION.
> 
> Honestly, I am so glad I made this AU. I love Alaran from Wait, What? and Hold on a Second, but S&RE has been a ride entirely of its own that I'm so glad I ventured on. Thank you guys for all the love and support. You are all so fantastically wonderful, and I'm so lucky to have you as readers. <3
> 
> Love,  
> Blue


	20. It Sounds Like Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in Al's life in the wake of everything that happened

"All better, see?" I smiled kindly as I applied a burn salve made by some mages to a child's face.  Though it wouldn't get rid of the wound entirely, it would greatly reduce the severity.   I had to deal with the fact that her skin would still be marred for the rest of her life and I couldn't do anything about it, but took heart in knowing that she wouldn't get an infection and her eye would be spared.  

She sniffed and gave a nod.  Her mother wrapped her child up in her arms.  "Thank you, serah," she said, expression worn but grateful.  "Are you sure we cannot pay you?"

I shook my head and stood, ignoring the strain in my thighs and calves from crouching a lot the past two weeks.  "No need.  You keep your coin."

"Where are all these supplies coming from?  Surely you must be running low by now."

My shoulders shrugged and I pushed my floppy hair back from my forehead.  I needed to cut it, soon.  "We get funded through a third-party donor.  They make sure I have what I need.  So if you know anybody who needs assistance, send them to me."

As soon as they were off I was off to the next patients waiting to be tended to in Lirene's shop.  Her place (and outside it) had been transformed into a one-third shelter, one-third clinic, and one-third soup kitchen.  It had eased up in its intensity after the first week, but was still incredibly busy.  I had gone to the Fereldan woman the day after I awoke from my dreamless sleep in the Hawke mansion to propose to her what we should do...only to find that she was already doing it.  She gladly accepted my help, though, and was even happier when I informed her of how much money would be flowing in from my "third-party benefactor."  I couldn't say his name out loud--I couldn't say any of their names out loud for fear of being interrogated by the freaking Order or the Chantry detectives--but I  _could_ say that the donor was short, hairy, and in a long-time relationship with an inanimate weapon.

Hawke had left the estate to Bodahn, Sandal, and me.  I, in turn, let Aveline use it as a temporary base of operations for her guard, since the Viscount's Keep had been heavily damaged when the Chantry exploded.  Out of everybody, it was just us and Carver left.  I hadn't seen the younger Hawke, yet (I doubted I would for a long while), and Aveline and I were were so busy that we hardly ever saw each other.  When we did it was to discuss how many guards should be posted outside and near Lirene's shop.  Everybody was aware that in times of tragedy and chaos, the scum of the earth crawled out from their holes with the intent of preying on the poor and lowly.  Her own people were stretched so thin, though, that posting protection where I worked wasn't always possible.  That meant I had to break noses and arms when the situation called for it.  In severe cases, when lives were threatened, I swiftly placed knives into skulls or throats.  I always had the bodies removed to the burning pile before they were even cold and calmly returned to my duties.  It served as a reminder to everyone that this was a place of sanctuary; anybody willing to disrupt that would receive merciless punishment.

I had made sure it was clear to everybody seeking help in Kirkwall could come here and be tended to, from newly titled apostates to surface dwarves.  Nobody was turned away.  Not even templars who had come here because they had nowhere else to go, because their lives had been upturned by what happened just as much as the next.  The only thing they weren't permitted to do was persecute the mages willing to risk their lives by staying here and freely giving aid.  They had lost their authority, anyhow; no need to make it worse.  The most common thing I saw in them were advanced stages of lyrium withdrawal; the Chantry explosion had completely wiped out the supply and any ties with Orzammar.  One letter to my donor, however, had smuggled crates of lyrium coming in four days later, serving both the templars and the mages that were well-versed in healing.  I always had somebody trustworthy at the front table to regulate which soldiers came in and got some.  The fact that I was helping their addiction created conflicting internal and external emotions, but they were just as lost as the rest of us.  Before any more of the Order could be sent in, they were directionless and desolate.  So until times changed, I would do what I could to aid them.

"Help!  I need help!" a voice cried as I was finishing up spoon-feeding soup to a recent amputee.  An apprentice mage by the name of Nesa took my spot.  She wasn't that great at healing with magic, but was practiced in herbalism and contributed through that.  The salve I used on the child's face...hours ago?...was thanks to her.  

I made my way out, giving instructions as I passed.  "Clean up that blood...boil the water before using it...no, it won't need to be amputated if you keep doing that...I need you to do another cleansing aura in a bit to disinfect the air...no, no, I'm fine..."

Cullen was outside, supporting a templar whose head was slick with dark red liquid.  The Knight-Captain sported a messy injury of his own on his lip, but he seemed to be completely unaware of it.  "He needs help!" he repeated thickly through the stream of blood.  Desperation shone in his honey-colored eyes.  "Please, Alaran!"  Holy hell, he wasn't concerned that  _his lip was literally ripped right open?_

"Bring him in, hurry," I said immediately, moving to the other side of the templar and throwing his limp arm over my shoulder.  We moved back inside the building to an available cot.  "What happened?" I asked Cullen as I set to work, hands becoming bloody once more.

"Coterie," was his simple answer.  I gave a nod in understanding.  The Coterie and other groups were thriving while Kirkwall was in such a state.  "I-is he going to be alright?"

My lips pursed.  "It's hard to tell...Elsie!  I need you!"

Soon a mage was by my side.  Suspicion guarded her face as she looked at the two templars, but ultimately cast her hands over Cullen's companion and emitted a soft blue aura.  Cullen opened his injured mouth to protest--and produced more blood because of the movement--but closed it after a sharp look from me.

As Elsie worked, I deftly tended to my templar friend.  "It's gonna scar," I stated as I wove a needle and thread to shut the wound and calm the tightness in my heart.  Who knew that a musician's hands could also be good at stitching skin closed?  

Cullen mumbled a response.  I smirked, but it was taut and didn't reach my eyes.  I glanced over at Elsie; she was almost finished, and the templar she was aiding had regained color.  Had it not been for her, he'd be dead.

"Thank you," Cullen said when I finished and began applying a poultice to it that'd boost the healing process and lessen the chance of infection.  He had taken the whole thing without complaint, save for a few muffled, scratchy groans.  I had to say, it was pretty impressive for a man whose lip was torn in half.  "What you are doing here is good.  You've given hope to many."

"I'm not the only one," I responded, trying to stifle a yawn.  

"No, but without you it wouldn't be nearly as successful.  Or as orderly.  This is the calmest place I've been to since..."  He didn't need to finish.

"How are you holding up, Cullen," I spoke quietly enough that it didn't sound like a question.  My words visibly sunk his shoulders and forced him down an even darker hole.  

"I...all I stood for.  Gone.  I  _forced_ myself not to see until it was too late.  And Maker, now..."  The templar's eyes turned misty, but he blinked it away and cleared his throat.  "But it doesn't matter.  What matters is what we do now."

"Where are all the templars staying?  At the Gallows?"

"Those who have chosen to stay, yes.  It is the only place we know."

"Don't you have a home, Cullen?  You could go back.  Now would be your chance."

Cullen considered my comment for a few moments before giving a shake of his head.  "No," he said with resolve.  "I cannot simply abandon Kirkwall.  Until a greater purpose is presented to me, I will remain here."

"Okay.  But you should probably stop talking.  Wouldn't want that pretty mouth of yours to tear back open."

The statement might have made Cullen blush at one point, but now he just gave a weary nod of his head and returned to his former position by his comrade's side.  I cleaned up the area and set back to work, losing track of time until it was long past dark and most of the residents still here would need to be monitored.  I knew that as soon as I slowed down, I would no longer be able to ignore the aching exhaustion down to my bones.  I would have just slept at Lirene's, but I didn't want to smell the bodies that were burning nearby.  The ones we couldn't save.  Plus, I was in desperate need of a wash.  I had told Aveline the only stipulation to her using the Hawke estate for the city guards was that she'd instruct her men and women to stay out of the bedrooms and kitchen.  I needed to have at least a few hours to myself, even if those hours consisted of sleeping and eating.  

On my way out I noticed a certain curly-haired man propped uncomfortably against the wall, slack-jawed and undoubtedly asleep.  He hadn't left his friend's side, who from what I could see was recovering well.

I trudged over and patted his head a few times.  "Come on, Cullen.  Time to go--"

He bolted awake with a half-cry, half-shout.  I would have jumped back had it not been for my total loss of reaction due to the fatigue I felt.  Instead I watched as Cullen took in his surroundings and anchored himself to reality.  "Maker's breath," he muttered in a disgruntled voice, tenderly touching the injury on his lip to make sure it hadn't torn open in his start.

I jerked my head to the door.  "It's late, and your friend will be here in the morning."  I gauged Cullen's state for a moment before asking, "Do you need lyrium?"

The blunt question took him by surprise.  "I-" he sputtered.  "I--no, no."

"You're lying."

Turning on my heels, I walked to the back part of the shop where our medicine and food were stored and grabbed a vial of lyrium.  "Here," I said to Cullen, handing it out for him to take.  

"Where did you get this?"

"Illegally.  Now take it."

"...Thank you."

Cullen popped the cork off and downed the potion in one go, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed.  As soon as he was finished I beckoned him to follow me outside and into the night.  "Are you going back to the Gallows?" I inquired, my nocturnal vision catching laborers preparing to burn bodies in one heap.  I pointedly looked away.  

"Yes."

"Wait, didn't all transportation to and from there go to shit?" I followed up.  "I mean, everything's gone to shit, but specifically that in this case."

"Er, yes.  I typically row myself."

I snorted.  "You're in no shape to row tonight.  And I know I'm too tired to even unsheathe my greatsword, let alone swing it.  Come on; you're staying with me tonight in exchange for offering some protection.  It'll be a sleepover!"

"I-I couldn't possibly--"

"Cullen, I'm tired.  You're tired.  Don't waste any more energy arguing.  There are like ten rooms you can choose from, with hot bath and a meal included.  If you insist on refusing, I'm going to think you're crazy because who would want to turn that down?"

"The templars--"

"Can survive for a night.  You'll go back first thing in the morning."  I yawned widely and beckoned him to join me.  "Let's go, yeah?"

-

I toed the fire rune at the end of the bathtub idly, feeling its borderline uncomfortable heat to keep myself awake.  Sandal made excellent enchantments that heated water, I found.  He and Bodahn were probably long asleep; I almost envied the semblance of normalcy they still managed to maintain.  

After scrubbing my pale skin until it was pink and washing my hair twice, I forced myself to crawl out of the warmth and unplug the drain.  Fancier mansions like Hawke's had indoor plumbing to the point that the water could flush out, even if it had to manually be put in.  I fished the rune out and set it on a nearby bowl of cool rocks so it wouldn't set anything on fire.  After, I began drying myself off with a towel, mind blank from fatigue except for the single goal to get to my bed.  It was only when I was putting on one of Hawke's giant shirts to wear did I realize that I had offered Cullen a bath yet didn't set out any clean clothes for him to change into.

Grabbing a lit sconce, I ventured to the Champion's room and dug around in his drawers for the cleanest pair of smalls I could find, a tunic, socks without holes, and the longest pair of trousers available.  Though Hawke and Cullen were similar in stature, the templar was taller than him by a good five inches.  It was always amusing to see them square off and Hawke having to be intimidating while craning his head upwards.

I knocked on the bathroom chamber where Cullen still was.  There was sudden, panicked splashing.  I chuckled and called, "Don't worry, you're in no rush.  I'm just going to leave some clothes out for you.  They'll be on your bed.  I'm sorry if the pants are a bit short; Hawke was never known for his height.  But I figured that your boots would cover that up anyways."

"Oh--I, thank you," he responded from beyond the door.  "That is very kind."

"Well I am the kindest, after all," I smiled.  "Have a good night's rest, Cullen."

"And you as well, Alaran."

I hummed a response and shuffled back to my room.  Bubs was passed out on my bed, legs sticking in the air and tongue lolling out.  He had waited up for me at first, but had now gotten into the habit of going to bed early.  "Hello, my little man," I cooed, sliding under the covers and wrapping my arm around the Mabari's upturned stomach.  I pulled him close to me, earning a sleepy grunt from the dog.  "My widdle man.  My awesome..."

Then I fell asleep.

Unremarkable dreams swam in my mind, too hazy and distant to be depicted fully.  I liked those ones the best.  They didn't plague me with loss and fear.  In times like these, I was a lucky person to have them.

When I awoke I began the routine of washing my face, doing some yoga to stretch out any stiff muscles, getting dressed in plain clothes that I didn't mind getting blood and fluids on, then going downstairs to make breakfast.  It was pretty boring and simple most days, but one thing that was different was the loud snoring I heard coming from behind a closed door.  It made me smile while Bubs cocked his head at the noise.  

I rapped my knuckles on the door to wake him--it was well into the morning, and call it a hunch, but I didn't think Cullen was one who enjoyed sleeping in.  When the snoring didn't let up, I waggled my eyebrows at Bubba, who waggled his dog ones back.  Stifling a snicker, I turned the doorknob and peeked my head in.  

Cullen was sprawled out on the bed, stripped down to the underwear I gave him.  His hair was disheveled and awry, blonde curls springing from every which way.  I tilted my head and smirked; it was cute.

"Yo, Cullen," I continued to speak, walking up to the bed so I was standing over him.  I patted his cheek while checking on the stitching I had done yesterday.  It would heal nicely.  And who knows?  It might even leave him looking rugged and extra manly.  "Wake up time!"

My exclamation got through to him.  Sleepily, he cracked open his eyes.  I patiently waited for his brain to click things together, keeping my expression neutral as the same eyes widened comically and hands frantically grasped the blankets to cover himself up.  Psh.  Fereldens and their decency.  "A-Alaran?!  What are you doing?"

"Waking you up.  Get dressed and come on down to the kitchen.  Breakfast will be waiting."

With that, I turned on my bare heels and strode out, Bubs following smugly.  I waited until I was downstairs to allow myself to giggle at the sight I had just seen.  I  _should_ have been blushing like an anime girl at the sight of an almost-naked--and undoubtedly attractive--man, but my emotions just wouldn't...click.  That's how it had been ever since I was raped.  A part of me wanted to  _force_ myself to do something because that was considered normal, but the other, rational part of me told myself that I was going to move at my own pace.  When I was ready to be touched by another man and share intimate feelings with him, I would know.  Until then, the number one guy in my life was my dog.

I looked over at Bubs and watched for a few moments as he gnawed on some mysterious bone, smiling to myself.  Then my lips parted to sing to him our morning song as I lit the burner for the stove, getting a happy tail wag as a reaction.

 _"I'm just waitin' on the sun  
_ _To close his eyes and call it a night  
_ _So we can put all our differences aside._

 _I'm just waitin' on the moon_  
_With all the stars and all its gloom_  
_We can watch it fall right back into place_

_So I won't keep myself around  
Just to keep you warm."_

When I got to the  _woo-oo-oo-oo_ part, Bubs joined in with his awful, demonic howling.  It was no wonder Mabaris could strike fear into the hearts of their enemies; the noise was so grating people probably fled just to get away from it.  

I skipped to the next part of the song, swaying my hips and cracking eggs in the frying pan.

 _"I'm not walkin' away_  
_I'm just hearin' what you're sayin'_  
_For the first time_  
_Sounds like hallelujah for the first time_  
_For the first time_  
_Singin' hallelujah for the first time"_

_"And I'll miss you someday--"_

The door to the kitchen creaked open, causing me to cut the song off short.  Bubs whined loudly at the abrupt end.  He shot a glare at the entering Cullen.  He saw it as clear as day and raised his hands in submission.

"Don't mind him," I smiled over my shoulder before looking back down at the frying eggs.  Cullen awkwardly came to stand beside me, unsure of how to act or what to do.  "He may be big, but all that means is that he's a big baby."

Cullen chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.  "I see.  Er, is there anything I can do?  I-I'm not that much of a cook, but I do know the basics."

"In the cold box there's some cream and peaches.  Slice one up for me, and however many you want for yourself," I instructed, jerking my thumb to the left of me.  "The bowls are up...there."  I pointed to a top cupboard I typically had to jump up and down to reach.  But to Cullen it was an easy grab.  I curled my lip at him.  Freaking tall people.

"How is Carver holding up?" I asked as he chopped a peach for myself and two for him while I continued to fix us some eggs.  "He hasn't left the Gallows, I'm assuming."

"No.  He's taken up the mantle of doing...well, doing everything that he possibly can to give structure to what's left of us."

"Good," I smiled.  "Tell him to come visit me, when he can.  I know he's been avoiding me because he can't properly deal with his emotions, but I need him to get over it.  Like, I'm freaking awesome.  Staying away from me is probably the hardest thing anybody has to do."  My smile fell when I remembered all those who really _did_ have to stay away from me.  Away from Kirkwall.  "Aw.  Now I'm sad."

"Where...are they?  If I may ask."

I shrugged.  "No idea.  And if I did I wouldn't tell you."

"Because I am a templar?"

"Because you are a templar, yes."

Surprisingly, he chuckled.  "Fair enough."

We ate in comfortable silence.  I had to repeatedly push my mess of hair back away from my line of vision as I hunched over my food, occasionally grumbling because I wasn't going to have time to cut it today.  Or probably ever.  Gross.

A short while later I had my greatsword strapped to my back and Cullen had donned his armor.  I waved to the guards already gathering in the parlor and gave Bubs giant smooches before we departed.  

"You know, Cullen, you'd think that when we first met we wouldn't have been friends," I contemplated aloud as we passed into Lowtown.  His company helped distract me from bittersweet memories of walking with Hawke and our friends, our antics knowing no bounds.  "Like, I think I kind of despised you."

"You weren't the only one," he laughed softly.  His smile faded after a few seconds.  "But yes.  The chance of us becoming friends was...not something I could have foreseen."  After saying the word 'foreseen,' Cullen's eyes grew faraway.  He opened his mouth a few times, unable to get out what he wanted past his lips.  

"Yeeeees?" I dragged on, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.  

"How..."  He swallowed.  "How did you know that the Arishok and Knight-Commander Meredith would pose a threat to Kirkwall all those years ago?"

I felt all the blood drain from my face.  It had been  _six years_ and he still remembered that?  The day I didn't give two farts about what I said in that single moment because of the crappy day I had?

_Lie.  You need to lie._

_But why?  Why do I need to keep it up?  It's all over.  Nobody's here, anymore.  Why do I have to continue on with the charade?_

_Because how could you possibly explain to Cullen--or to anybody--just_  how _you_ _know?_

"Sometimes..." I sighed reluctantly, "sometimes I have dreams.  Freaky dreams.  I saw glimpses of what would happen, but I also saw plenty of other outlandish things, too.  On that particular day, though, I had no desire to filter reality from what I saw when I was asleep."  My shoulders shrugged resignedly; the fact that I was lying so well was somewhat sickening, but I made no move to stop it.  "Believe what you want.  Sometimes I find it hard to accept, too, so I wouldn't blame you if you thought I was crazy."

"...You said you weren't a mage?" Cullen asked hesitantly.  

I shot him a cold glance.  "I think that fact was proven otherwise."

His back snapped straight.  It looked like somebody had Insta-Burned his ears, too.  "Y-yes!  Of course.  I did not mean to--"

My hand placed itself on his arm.  "Breathe, Rutherford.  Just breathe.  Putting your foot in your mouth is not the end of the world.  And I honestly don't know what goes on.  I've... _maybe_ seen a bit of the future, but it's with question marks scrawled all over it.  I don't know what's real and what's not."  I added the parcel of truth to the end of my statement.  "But I'd rather not know anything at all."

We stopped at a small stand selling bread.  I pulled out the little coin I carried on me and bought a few loaves, much to the appreciation of the baker.  When Cullen looked at me quizzically, I stuck my tongue out at him and offered no further explanation.  It seemed that a few lucky people were going to get bread with their stew.  And from the appearance and smell of it, I could tell that they hadn't put rotten dough or sawdust to make it appear better and more wholesome.  The bread would make them happy.

The clinic was already in full-swing, busy with people seeking refuge and aid.  Cullen and I made our way over to his friend, who was undoubtedly going to make a full recovery.  Elsie was checking him over when we approached.  Just the look of hope in their eyes--in the eyes of everybody here--was something to behold.  I wished Hawke was here to see it, to see that the thing he thought he destroyed was actually stronger than it was before.  I wished he knew that his name was spoken in reverent prayers of the poor, that on some evenings everybody in the clinic would gather around as I recounted stories of Garrett Hawke and I would get to see the wonder in their gazes.  I wished he knew just how much of a _Champion_  he was to them.

I was waiting for the day when circumstance would force me to leave Kirkwall.  What kind of circumstance, I didn't know.  But until then, I would help fuel the flame of hope.  Of a better tomorrow.  Even in this clinic...

It was a start.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Al sings to Bubba is called Sounds Like Hallelujah by The Head and the Heart. If you like acoustic indie and music that makes you want to live in a cabin in Oregon, then this band is the band for you. And no, nothing REALLY important happens in this chapter other than some resolution before I pick back up. Just a bit of floof. 
> 
> You can follow me on the Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	21. Rising Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hodge-podge chapter full of things...including the Breach.

"There is one in your story that you do not name," Seeker Pentaghast said lowly, folding her arms and expecting a full, truthful answer.  That was _all_ Varric had been doing since the beginning of the interrogation, of course, but when it came to Al...he wasn't about to let her become subjected to unpleasant things.  Not more than she already had been.  "The Dalish elf. The one beside Merrill.  In one of the chapters you wrote that she didn't have a typical nickname like the others, yet you only call her...Birdie...in the book."

Varric chuckled to buy himself some time.  "She liked to sing and whistle like a little bird.  And why are you interested in her?  She's just a minor character, after all."

"This... _Birdie..._ was there for everything, no?  She was there when you encountered the darkspawn magister in Vimmark, and she was there during the battle with the Knight-Commander."

"Let's just say that I put her in for comedic relief," Varric said easily, propping his cheek on one of his fists.  "She's pretty funny, though I'd never tell her that."

The Seeker ignored him.  "You even wrote about her going into the Deep Roads with the Champion, but between then and a few months before the Kirkwall Circle fell there is no mention of her whatsoever."

Well of course there wasn't.  Varric knew he was a  _spectacular_ author, but not even he could properly describe,  _"Al went into the Fade for six years and chatted with a big bad demon the whole time, then spontaneously came back!"_ So he just took the liberty of leaving it out altogether.  And...he doubted Al would have wanted that sensitive, private area of her life to be written down for everybody to read. 

"She had her own life, obviously.  You know what that means, Seeker?  Having your own life?  Doing things that you consider fun?  Our little Birdie just so happened to take joy in collecting plants by the ocean side and being by herself.  And could you blame her with the state that Kirkwall was in?"  Varric was lying just as easily as Al did.  Because if there was anybody he'd defend as much as Hawke, it was her.  Somehow, in some way, she had grabbed onto a piece of Varric's heart and never let go.  "Besides,  _Birdie_ just had a knack for showing up in the right place at the right time.  Call it a Maker-given gift."

The Seeker curled her lip at him as she mulled over his response.  "And where is she now?"

Varric sighed in contemplation.  "Last I heard she was in Starkhaven doing some work Choir Boy delegated to her.  But that could have been before or after she was in Denerim delivering supplies to the elves in the alienage.  And it  _also_ could have been before or after she spent some time with Admiral Isabela--"

"Answer me," she snarled.  Varric threw his hands up in exasperated submission. 

"Maker's ass!  I don't know!  She's all over the place, doing who knows what.  I don't keep tabs on  _everybody,_ Seeker.  I know you think I'm perfect, but--"

"Shut.  Up."  

Cassandra growled to nobody in particular and angrily rubbed her brow, trying to decide if she should interrogate Varric further on the subject of Alaran Lavellan or move onto other things.  Varric waited patiently as the Seeker had her internal battle.  In all honesty, he and Al kept in close touch.  Not in the conventional way, of course; writing letters was too easy to track.  There were messages dotted throughout Thedas that Varric's people picked up and relayed back to him.  Ironically, they used Chanter's boards to communicate.  Al would leave things like a vase of vibrant flowers, a half-chewed ox bone with a ribbon tied around it, a detailed sketch of a certain Mabari, or a horrible pun that always left Varric's people laughing.  In turn, he would leave riddles and dirty poetry and the like.  It was entertaining while ensuring the other was in good condition.

But Varric wasn't going to be telling the angry Seeker about it anytime soon.  

-

On the outskirts of Redcliffe village was an elven woman.  White hair was pulled back into a braid and slung over her shoulder, loose strands framing her angular face.  Sky blue  _vallaslin_ scrawled down her forehead, nose, and chin in tree-like patterns, highlighting intense violet eyes and berry-colored lips.  The same lips that were currently pulled into a frown.  The expression unveiled a person who had seen too many things in the span of twenty-four years.  She should have been thirty by now, but due to unforeseen events she now held an almost ageless look about her.  She doubted it would ever completely go away, either.

The woman was dressed in simple traveling clothes; all the nicer ones were left in a mansion currently maintained by a former dwarven employer and his amazing adopted son.  The outfit was a faded druffalo duster jacket too big for her in width but normal in height, a woolen scarf, a tunic with a sash tied over it, tight-fitting trousers, and boots.  She didn't like the boots, but needed to wear them because this was Ferelden so everything was cold and rocky and smelled of wet dog.

Oh, wait, it smelled like wet dog because of the giant Mabari sitting next to her.  He was looking quite majestic, too.  She wasn't the only one who had done some maturing in five years.  But he was still her Bubs.  And at the moment, he was keeping guard while her eyes scanned the letter gripped in both hands.  She had already memorized each word, each curve of the symbols she had learned to read in the Fade.  She would always recognize the handwriting by heart.  The letter had been pinned to the Chanter's board in Redcliffe village, just waiting for her to read it.  She even knew it was for her from the crossbow bolt that pinned it in place.

_Al,_

_I think I'm going to get kidnapped, soon, so if you don't hear from me for a while that's where I'll be.  Stay safe.  I don't know if they're going to come after you, either, so lay low for now.  Damn, everybody told me the book was a bad idea.  But did I listen?  Of course not._

_Hope your gassy dog is doing well.  And I hope you're doing well.  
___  
-V.T.

The parchment crumpled in between the woman's fists, then was torn into tiny little pieces and scattered across the damp hillside.  She stood, strapping her greatsword on and then her pack over it.  She felt like she was missing something for a moment, but immediately knew what it was.  Her lute.  She had it sent back to Kirkwall through one of Bodahn's caravans when things started to get sticky in Ferelden.  The Hinterlands, specifically.  Which, from all the bears, apostates, templars, and  _even more bears,_ she most definitely knew she was in.  That's what actually brought her here in the first place; the mage-templar war created a lot of refugees, and refugees needed help.  She had been headed down to the Crossroads village to aid in any way she could when she received Varric's message.  

But it looked like plans had changed.  Nobody harmed her dwarf and got away with it.  "I'm coming for you, Varric Warric," she muttered under her breath.  The scent of pine oil on the jacket had long since faded, reminding her that she needed to tend to it with as much care as he did and...that she missed him dearly.

Bubba growled, alerting her to a presence behind her back.  The elf turned, gripping the dagger on her hip.

"P-please, messere!" a woman pleaded, holding two young children protectively back with one of her arms.  In the other she gripped a staff.  She was haggard and thin, and sported a bruise that nearly swelled her eye shut.  "I-I don't want to harm you, so please...J-j-just give me whatever food and c-c-c-coin you have t-t-to spare a-and we'll be on our way."

They were surprised by a sudden chuckle from the elf.  She relinquished her hold on the hilt of her dagger.  "Oh, goodness, you need to act tougher, sweetie," she said as she slowly crouched down and unslung her pack once more.  "And you could have just asked, you know."

"I-I'm sorry?" the mage woman questioned in a wavering voice.  The elf beckoned the three others to come near.

"I promise I won't bite.  And neither will he."  She jerked a thumb over to her Mabari.  "But he hasn't had a bath in months, so I'd try not to be downwind of him."  Her violet eyes looked over the state of the apostate refugees.  The frown returned.  "I take it you don't have any skills in healing magic, do you?" 

The apostate shook her head.  "I had barely gone through my Harrowing when the Circles fell."

Another glance.  Holy freak, she wasn't older than eighteen or nineteen.  And the children behind her...eight and ten, most likely.  "Well, it seems you're in luck, because I happen to have...five healing potions on me, two vials of lyrium, an assortment of salves, as well as some jerky, dried apples, and a very hard piece of bread."  The elf then held up her hand in salutations, a small smile dashing away the frown and crinkling the corners of her eyes.  "I'm Alaran, by the way.  Alaran Lavellan."

-

Today was the day.  After five years, today was the day it could all be resolved.  No more fighting, no more bloodshed.  Things could not only return to as they were, but they could become  _better._

Cullen Rutherford was on his way to the Chantry with a small contingent of soldiers.  Should anything go wrong at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, he would be there to enforce peace.  

 _Enforce peace._  That's what had gotten them into this mess in the first place.  The more they forced the mages to maintain peace and security, the worse it all got.  He had to stop thinking like that.

How was it going to be, seeing some of his former comrades and friends there?  Cullen doubted they would  _all_ be present, but the fact alone made his heart race faster than what was comfortable.  Maker's breath, he was already getting a headache and it wasn't even midday.  The lyrium  _called_ to him, just one more time and then it would all be better.  Just one more time.

No.  He must _resist--_

A sudden, happy bark cut through Cullen's thoughts.  He looked around for the source of the noise.  There hadn't been any dogs in Haven, last he noticed...

Cullen then saw a particular Mabari race up to him, pushing past people unabashedly with his tongue lolling out.  The dog's muzzle was white, as well as his back left leg.

"Commander, we have confirmed the reports coming from Seeker Pentaghast that the prisoner with her is--"

 _"Bubs?"_ Cullen asked incredulously, taking a knee to get a better look at the Mabari he hadn't seen in four years.  "What are you doing here?" 

Bubba looked over his shoulder to the Temple of Sacred Ashes as if to say,  _She's in there, and she left me here to be bored out of my mind._

"Do you know who this dog belongs to, ser?" one of his soldiers asked.  Cullen patted the massive head of Alaran's dog and stood.  

"Yes, I do.  In fact, his owner--"

The sky was tore asunder.

-

"Heard you drug somebody out of the Fade," Varric smirked to Cassandra, joining her side.  It was unwanted, and thus produced a snarl from the Seeker.

"I do not have time for your antics, dwarf.  Now leave."

"I also heard you got some help from an elven apostate.  Isn't that a tad too progressive for the likes of you?  Hey, since I'm your loyal prisoner--I've only made one escape attempt so that's saying something--shouldn't you let me see her?  Maybe when she wakes up, I can ask what exactly a Dalish elf was doing at the Conclave, play the whole duo on the good officer, bad officer routine.  I'll be the good officer, of course--"

Cassandra opened the door, turned so she could palm Varric's face, pushed him roughly back with said hand, and slammed the door shut.  It was somewhat satisfying.  

"I told you he would be a nuisance if you brought him along," Leliana said idly, standing from the small table she was seated at.  Just  _how_ she could sit at a time like this was beyond Cassandra.  "I had for the apostate to be sent in.  He should arrive..."  The entrance clicked open, revealing two guards flanking the elven man.  "Now."

"Seeker, Spymaster," Solas said with more cordiality than one would first assume he possessed.  "I am pleased that you have chosen to accept my help."

"In a situation like this," Leliana said, "do we really have an option?"

Solas gave the barest of smiles.  "There is always an option."

"Come," Cassandra interrupted, growing impatient due to the anxiety building in her chest.  "We have little time.  The survivor is in critical condition."

"And you need her to live, yes," Solas finished with a small nod.  "I understand what is at stake."

She evaluated him with a hard stare.  Trusting him was a risk that they may not be able to afford.  And it was...suspicious that he should show up just at this time.  There were too many questions that needed answering, but that would have to wait.  What was it that Leliana always chimed?   _Practicing patience procures perfection._

It was the one thing Cassandra hated to practice most.  

"Where is the commander?" she asked Leliana as they walked down to the dungeon cell where the survivor awaited.  

"He was on the front lines, but I sent a missive informing him that there was a survivor."

"Maker watch over him," Cassandra muttered.  "Maker watch over them all."

"You threw the sole survivor into a prison cell?" Solas inquired as they descended the stairs into the dungeon.  "The one that may have the only solution to closing the Breach?"

"We do not know what we are up against," Cassandra replied heatedly.  "Precaution is needed."

"Of course."

Cassandra gave Solas a sidelong glance, refraining from curling her lip at him.  For somebody who could be apprehended at any moment, he spoke as if he knew better than all of them.  It grated against her better judgement.  What could  _he_ possibly know just exactly what they were up against?

Leliana opened the cell door guarded by their men.  "Try anything, apostate, and you'll regret it," Cassandra said lowly in Solas' ear, only having to bend slightly to reach him.  Since when were elves so tall?  "I won't have--"

She stopped abruptly only because Solas had done so.  "Is something the matter?" Leliana questioned lightly, blue eyes sharply studying his reaction.

He swallowed, taking in the white-haired elf lying on a small cot.  "Ah, no.  No...no."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at Solas.  "Do you...know her?"

Solas straightened his shoulders and strode forward, crouching down beside the woman.  "Of course not, Seeker.  I just knew somebody of her like, a long time ago."

She didn't believe him.  She also didn't know  _what_ she didn't believe, but that was beside the point.  "Get to work.  And pray that she awakes."

-

Wisdom looked up to the sky in the Fade, stopping short of the sentence she was saying.  Solas followed her gaze, feeling what she felt as well.  "Now that's not something you experience every day," the spirit commented, drifting up from the bench she was seated on.  "I wonder what it is."  

"As do I," Solas said, rising to his feet.  He flexed a fist, testing his strength.  Wisdom sighed.

"You really shouldn't.  I'll be the laughing stock of the whole spirit world if I have to drag you back by the scruff of your neck because you're too weak to make it on your own."

She was promptly ignored.  Solas took a deep, even breath, focusing his mind around the twining of the Fade and where it had been impacted.  His curiosity was insatiable; he  _had_ to know what happened.  Perhaps this trip would set into motion the final push of awakening from  _uthenera._

Alaran had always been reluctant to inform Solas of what the Waking World was like.  He reckoned there was a deeper reason than just the fact that she barely knew more than he did because of her predicament.  Yet Solas always wondered, and when he finally gained enough willpower to step outside of his own mind, he found...

Not what he had been expecting.  It was never enough to determine if his actions had made a difference, but certainly interesting.  He should not have been as surprised as he was to see that the world had changed.  First, he went to the Hanged Man Alaran spoke so fondly about.  It was...dirty, but she shone like a beacon in the swirl of memories.  Next he went to the Wounded Coast, or so the humans called it.  Once in a while Solas would catch glimpses of Alaran, her large hat and worn clothing so detailed it couldn't have just been coincidence.  The memory of her clear, piercing whistle nestled into his bones.  

Those were the only two places Solas ever saw Alaran.  They were easy to access and didn't drain his energy as much as other places.

But as the Fade formed an entirely new scenery around him, a small figure ran past at full speed.  Solas' eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly as he saw Alaran bound up the stairs two at a time.  He followed, already feeling his body become weary and thin.  Still he pushed himself.  Where was she going?  What was making her so frantic?

Solas eventually slowed to a stop when he could go no further without totally collapsing.  Wisdom would never let him hear the end of it if he did.  So he watched from a distance as Alaran hastily pushed through giant wooden doors to a large, statuesque building, screaming somebody's name in a panic.  Solas took a step forward, brow furrowing.  Something wasn't right.  Alaran wasn't one to become easily frightened--

The Fade rippled, ground rumbling for a brief moment before two deafening, crimson red rays shot into the rainy night sky from the center of the building.  Solas cried out and stumbled back as the rest of it was torn apart by more of the blast.  All of the fallen stonework lifted into the air, circling the beams in a horrifying, trance-like state.  It only lasted three seconds before the debris collected into one single pile and then exploded with such force it even made Solas stagger.  

After that, the scene grew hazy and gray, drifting back into its natural state.  Solas found himself on his knees, aching despair wrenching his heart in two.  No.  She hadn't...this wasn't...she was still...

She was gone.

...And then she was right in front of him, real and warm and marred by the Orb.

"I have kept her stable," Solas stated, gently placing Alaran's Marked hand on her stomach and straightening his back.

"Good," Seeker Pentaghast said roughly.  "When will she wake?"

"It is difficult to determine.  I will continue to monitor her, but--"

"Oh, Maker's breath!" somebody exclaimed from the entryway.  Solas turned to see a blonde man in...somewhat ostentatious...armor push through.  Disbelief and worry encompassed his face and embedded themselves in his gaze.  

"Commander Cullen," Leliana greeted, watching his every movement with practiced skill.  "I am glad to see you've returned safely.  It is..."  She trailed off as the Commander took a knee next to Alaran, tugging off a gauntlet and hesitantly touching a spot above her silver brow.  Was he...?

A faint spark of jealousy ignited in the pit of Solas' stomach despite its unwantedness.  Cullen...Knight-Captain Rutherford, yes.  Alaran had shared watermelon with him and her friends after he had fixed her lute...

But this man wasn't a templar, at least not anymore.  "She is the survivor?" the commander demanded to know as he hastily withdrew his hand.

"Yes," the Seeker drawled out.  Cullen almost smiled, which tugged on the vertical scar by the corner of his lip.  

"Somehow she manages," he muttered to himself as he stood.  "I can assure you, she has not done what you think she did."

"And just  _how_ do you exactly know this?" Cassandra questioned with steady forcefulness.

"Because Alaran would never want to hurt anybody.  She isn't--"

"Oh?  So you know her?" Leliana interrupted.

Cullen breathed in and out.  "Her name is Alaran Lavellan.  I knew her in Kirkwall."  His hand went to absently touch the scar on his lip.  "She helped me more than once."  His tone then became firm.  "Alaran is a good person.  One of the best.  Now please, can we get her out of this Maker forsaken room?"

"Solas?  Is it safe?"  All eyes turned to him, bringing his focus back to the dire matter at hand.  

"Yes," he answered curtly.  Of course Alaran had to have built a life of her own; she had only become aware of Solas' feelings towards her moments before she returned to the Waking World.  And who was to say that Alaran ever returned those feelings?  It had been five years for her to do anything she wished, with...anyone.

"There is an available room still in the Chantry," Leliana said as soldiers lifted the cot Alaran was laid out on.  "If we put her in there, the need to hide her from Haven won't be necessary."

Solas followed quietly, ignoring the suspicious glances cast his way.  Questions pounded in his skull, but they were all ones he couldn't say aloud.  Not without being thrown into the dungeon he had just come from.  This was all wrong.  It wasn't supposed to  _be_ Alaran who bore the mark of  _his_ Orb.  None of this was supposed to happen.  

But one thing stood out the most.  The one thing that set fear gnawing at his belly.  If... _when..._ Alaran awoke, she would know that it was him.  And she would know that this was his doing.   _Don't do anything stupid when you wake up, okay?  It's not going to be as bad as it first appears._ Alaran's voice rang hauntingly in Solas' head.  

It  _was_ bad, though.  It was the worst possible scenario he ever could have imagined.  And how could Solas  _possibly_ explain to Alaran just why he did it without her being utterly disgusted with him? 

He hadn't known she was alive.

This...this changed everything.

"I have to get back to the front lines," Commander Cullen said, tightly gripping the hilt of his sword.  "Your questions will have to wait," he added to Cassandra and Leliana, both of whom looked less-than-pleased at his statement.  "But, uh, I should mention that she has somebody else here who knows her."

Solas' back stiffened imperceptibly.  "Who?" Leliana inquired, eyes glinting like daggers before they slipped into somebody's rib cage.  

"Before she went to the Conclave, Alaran left a...friend."

"Would this friend have answers to the reason why she was there in the first place?" the spymaster followed up.  Cullen's almost-smile returned.  

"You'd most likely have to give him a treat, first, but perhaps you could find a way."

"A treat?  What is her friend, a dog?" Cassandra snorted.  There were several moments of silence before the commander answered.

"...Yes, in fact.  And his name is Bubs.  Or Bubba.  Or Bubberston...I can't be for sure.  She called him a lot of things.  Look for a Mabari with a white muzzle and a white back left leg.  I imagine he will want to know that his owner is alive."

Ah.  She had a dog, too.

Dogs hated Solas.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA DA! Isn't the encounter with Solas, Varric, Cassandra, AND Alaran going to be grand?? Not to mention with Commander Cully Wully. 
> 
> I hope you guys are as excited as I am, because dang.
> 
> *waves hands over head* wait! You can follow me on The Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	22. Reunions are the WoOOooOoOOOrst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like, I can't even try with this one. Just read it. READ IT.

The first thing I did was open my eyes.

The second thing I did was sigh.

It was a very loud sigh.  

And the third thing I did was look down at my hand.

My glowing green hand.

"Oh--come on,  _really?"_ I muttered exasperatedly.  Just my freaking luck.  

I held up both shackled wrists up to the guards all pointing their swords at me.  "Is this necessary?" I asked out loud.  My body felt like it had been drug through hot asphalt and bathed in garbage.  The minor detail that I was in a dungeon didn't help, either; the frigidity of the floor crept up my knees, amplifying the soreness I was experiencing.  

I received no answer to my question and was left to briefly mull over what was currently going on.  The power crackling on my palm was definitely from the Fade.  Anybody who was anybody knew that.  But there was something eerily...familiar...about it.  Like a signature at the end of a letter, or a laugh heard countless times.

The gears in my mind clicked.

_Ah, fuuuuck._

The door to the dungeon cell clanged open, giving entryway to the tall, intimidating woman with short black hair and ferocity in her eyes.  While she stomped in another woman glided silently behind, draped in a purple hood and matching armor.  Oh,  _she_ was the real threat.  While the first woman may have been outwardly threatening, the other could kill me with a twinkle in her eyes and a compliment on her tongue.  

The black-haired woman prowled around me before stopping behind my shoulder to lean down and growl, "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now."  She took back to walking.  "The Conclave is destroyed.  Everyone who attended is dead."  An accusing finger was thrown my way.  "Except for  _you."_

I glared at her, expression becoming one of silent fury.  I had been in more dangerous situations before; being intimidated was not something I often partook of.

Wait.  The Conclave...Varric had been there.  

Uh, no.  I was  _not_ going to accept that.  Fuck it.  There was no way he was dead.

She grabbed my left wrist and hoisted it up.  The green that emitted from my hand cast dancing shadows across her skin, highlighting the scar across her cheek and the bridge of her nose.  "Explain  _this,"_ she demanded, her Nevarran accent thick with rage.

I jerked my wrist free, earning a death stare from her.  "I can't," I angrily lied.

"What do you mean you  _can't?"_

"It means that I am _incapable_ of _explaining_  the foreign object on my hand _because_  I don't know _what_  it is or _how_  it got there," I responded with infinite patience, talking to her as if she was an annoying child.  "Maybe try asking me again some other time?  When I'm not--"

The woman's fist balled up while her other hand grabbed the scarf I was wearing.  I barely had time to brace myself before the sharp impact of knuckles on my cheekbone sent my head snapping back.  Okay, I  _might_ have deserved that.  But who could blame me?  My defense mechanism was sarcasm and jokes at the worst moments.  

I was about to get another pummel when the red-headed woman calmly but firmly pulled her back.  "We need her," she spoke steadily.  Wait, I recognized her voice.  Both their voices, actually.  

I'd get to that later.  "You need to apologize to me, I think," I said factually.  All eyes turned back to me.  "Why would I want to help somebody who punched me?"

The woman I was specifically talking to glowered.  "And why," she breathed, only millimeters away from hitting me again, "would I do that?"

"Asking me why you shouldn't kill me now is kind of a dead giveaway to the notion that you need my assistance," I went on.  Then I grimaced as I felt something hot and sticky roll down my cheek.  "Did you  _draw blood?_ That's rude.  Nope.  I'm definitely not helping you now."

"If you are so sure that we need your help," said the Orlesian lady, silently walking forward to me and folding her arms, "then you must know what happened.  How this all began."

Oh, I knew what was going on, even if I didn't remember how I got the Fade Hand.  But I focused on the disjointed memories scattered in my mind.  The fact that I never forgot  _anything,_ really, made my face scrunch up in frustration.  "I remember running.   _Things_ were chasing me, and then...a woman?"

"A woman?"

Think, think,  _think._ "She reached out to me, but then..."

The recollection drifted back into nothingness once more.  I made an angry noise and bowed my head to gather my tempestuous emotions while the two women convened, neither of them taking their gazes off of me.  "Go to the forward camp, Leliana.  I will take her to the rift."

 _Leliana._ Leliana from  _Dragon Age: Origins._ Of course it had to be her.  If I remembered correctly--and I almost always do--hadn't she been...less terrifying?

As the Nevarran unshackled me, I decided not to be a dick and asked, "What  _did_ happen?"  Though I was dreading the fact that I already knew, I wanted to hear it with my own two ears.

I was hoisted up just to have her tower over me.  "It will be easier to show you," she replied.

As we walked out of the dungeons and into what I could safely assume was the Chantry, I asked another question.  "Oh, can I bring my Mabari?  He's here, somewhere."

"He sat by you the entire time you were unconscious," the warrior said, not bothering to glance over her shoulder as she addressed me.  "But he went with our commander hours ago.  He is alive and well, however."

"Went with your commander?  Where to...?"  I trailed off as the Chantry doors swung open and exposed the harsh light of day and...and something else.

"Hol-y shit," I breathed as I looked upon the massive tear in the Veil. It seemed to swallow the sky.

"We call it "the Breach."  It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour," the woman explained solemnly.  "It's not the only such rift.  Just the largest.  All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

_What had he done?_

"No simple explosion could have done that," I found myself numbly saying.  It was the truth, technically.  

"My thoughts exactly.  Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

"Well no sh--"

The Breach pulsed, setting off the mark on my hand and sending me to my knees.  I let out a strangled cry as my chest grew tight and my vision slightly blurred.  It hurt.  It hurt bad.

The Nevarran crouched in front of me.  "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you."  She swallowed hard before continuing.  "It may be the key to stopping this, yes.  But there isn't much time."

I slowly gave a nod, processing just what was at stake.  "Okay."

She blinked.  "O-okay?  That is all you have to say about this?"

I stood to my feet and rolled my shoulders once.  "I may be a sarcastic pain in the ass, but I don't want the world destroyed.  That would be just mean."  I shot my captor a wink.  "Besides, my helpfulness will probably make you feel guilty for punching me."

"...I doubt that," she smiled wryly.  I gave her a brief, open-mouthed grin.

"Oh ho ho!  So she  _can_ make a face other than snarling!"

"Keep that up and you will see it again," she said back as we started to walk.

"Before we dive into danger, I would like to know your name," I said, turning my head upwards to look at her.

There was a pause before the answer.  "My name is Cassandra Pentaghast."

I masked my surprise.   _The_ Cassandra Pentaghast?  The one who had interrogated Varric about the events of _Dragon age II?_ Man, I heard stories about her wherever I went.  This woman was a friggin' hero.  And also the Right Hand of the Divine.

The Divine that was dead.

"I'm Alaran.  And...for what it's worth," I said before we passed through the crowd that was most likely going to shank me, "I'm sorry."

Cassandra didn't respond, but a bit of tension in the corners of her eyes released.  That was enough for me.

-

Coincidentally, there was a greatsword.  

I propped the same greatsword on my shoulder and strode to Cassandra.  "It's over," I said just before the tip of her sword pointed itself at my throat.  

"Drop your weapon.   _Now."_

My glowing hand placed itself over my chest.  "Cassandra," I said with mock-hurt, "I can't believe you wouldn't trust me.  Really, it's quite..."

In one swift motion I had knocked her longsword out of her grasp with my own blade.  It clattered on the ground, giving me time to point the tip of my sword back at her.  "Demeaning," I finished flatly, then lowered my weapon.  Cassandra muttered curses at me under her breath as she angrily picked her sword back up.  As I went back over and grabbed the strap and sheath for the greatsword, I said, "I'm not going to do anything, I promise.  Because if I had to pick between you and the demons, I'm gonna pick you.  Call me an old-fashioned elf, but I believe in choosing _sane_ options."

She evaluated my statement before huffing.  "I doubted his opinion of you, but I suppose...I was mistaken."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Whose opinion?"

"Our commander.  Cullen Rutherford."

A laugh bubbled to my lips.  "Cullen?   _Cullen_ is here?  Well isn't this just fantastic.  It makes sense now why Bubs was okay going with him."  We started to jog once more to reach our destination faster.  "But you said commander.  Commander of what?"  I didn't need an answer before I came up with it.  "Ah, I see.  People said they were just rumors, but I suppose it wasn't.  Or isn't."

"What rumors?"

"Ya know, of the Inquisition," I said, waggling my eyebrows for good effect.  "You really didn't think it could stay silent, did you?"

"...I suppose not.  But where did you hear such rumors?"

I shrugged, unsheathing my greatsword once more as we approached another group of demons.  "Everywhere, though it was mostly whispers."

"But you are Dalish, yes?  How would you know of these things?"

"Just because I have  _vallaslin_ doesn't mean I actually  _am_ with the Dalish.  Just like how even though you bear the name of the Pentaghast Family doesn't mean you associate with the nobility."

"Fair enough."

The demons stood little chance between the two of us.  I was starting to admire Cassandra's skill as a warrior.  She reminded me somewhat of Aveline, but much more angry and impulsive.  I made sure to have her back, and in turn she had mine.  

We raced up a flight of carved, snowy stairs that would have murdered me had it not been for the fact that I maintained my fitness.  "Quickly!" Cassandra shouted.  "You can hear the fighting!"

"Who's fighting?" I shouted back, feeling my hand flare with pain.  

"You will see."

There were no stairs leading down to the narrow, alley-like spot where I imagined what a rift was awaited.  With my greatsword in both hands I leaped down, Cassandra following suit.  A shade was immediately upon me, bringing both of its claws down.  I blocked its attack with the flat of my blade and kicked it back.  Right after that I drove the greatsword into its skull, only pausing for a second before moving to another that was attacking a soldier.  I cleaved into its back, feeling my blade being resisted before it moved through.  The shade emitted a horrendous shriek before dissolving into a pile of miasma.  

The skirmish lasted only about thirty seconds with Cassandra and me there.  Before I had a chance to even catch my breath, somebody grasped my wrist and yelled, "Quickly!  Before more come through!"

Though my hand was lifted into the air and connected with the rift, I wasn't looking at it.  I was staring at the person beside me.

_Solas._

My vision grew blurry and the pain in my lungs burst to life the closer the rift got to closing.  When it finally shut with a  _crack,_ I collapsed to the ground, wheezing for air.  Shit.  Shitty shit shit this wasn't happening.  I  _knew_ that pain.  I hadn't felt it in years, but I knew it too well.  

"Alaran!" a voice exclaimed.  Soon there was a thick, heavy hand on my back.  I blinked a few times, praying that it would all go away.

It did.  I wearily sat up and gulped in cold air, remembering where and who I was.  

Then I turned my attention to the dwarf at my side, "Varric," I breathed, and threw myself into his arms.  He wasn't dead.  Ha!  I had been right!  Suck on that.

"Al, what're you doing here?" Varric asked worriedly, pulling me back so he could look into my eyes.  Five years.  Five years, and he still looked like a thousand sovereigns.  

"Looking for you, idiot!" I answered, wanting to shake him and hug him even more at the same time.  "Did you think I would just sit back with a thumb up my ass while you were dwarfnapped?"

"I  _told_ you to lie low!"

"And I did!" I argued as I stood back up.  "Do you know how  _hard_ it was to try and do that while looking for information as to where you were taken?"  I threw my hands in the air.  "But I did it!  I did it  _superbly_ well, too, until  _this_ came along."  I shoved the Fade Hand in Varric's face, earning one of his rare scowls.  "So don't get mad at me for caring, you nug-humper!"

"I  _will_ get mad, you scrawny little brat, because--"

We were roughly shoved apart by Cassandra, who had a severe scowl of her own.  "What does she mean, she was looking for you?" she demanded to know from Varric.  "How do you two know each other?"

"And _minor character_ my ass," I cut in, pointing a finger at him.  "I may not have been at the Hanged Man every night of the week, but I was  _not_ a minor character.  And you made me fucking sound like I was some frolicking elf singing in times of trouble!  I did not!  It happened, like, twice!   _Twice,_ Varric!"

"Out of all the times you could bring this up, _you're doing it now?"_ Varric shot back.  "You could've come see me in Kirkwall, you know!  But you didn't!"

I wanted to strangle him.   _"Because you told me not to!"_ I hissed.  Cassandra grunted as she struggled to keep me held back.

"True, but--!"

"ENOUGH!" The Right Hand of the Divine roared.  She pulled Varric close while keeping me at bay.   _"This_ is Birdie?  The character in your book?"

"Yeah, and it's one of the stupidest nicknames he's ever given anybody!" I added bitingly.  

"Yes, alright?  She is!  Her real name is Alaran."

"And real nickname Al," I put in sourly.  I hadn't expected Varric's and my first encounter to go this way, but...oh well.

Cassandra then turned her eyes to me.  "That is what you were doing at the Conclave?  Looking for Varric?"

"Yeah, because somebody freaking..."  I gave one of the angriest turtle-frowns I believe I had ever put on.  "It was you, wasn't it?  You were the ones who took him.   _Why?"_

She let go of us.  "You two have wasted enough time as it is.  There are more important matters than your squabbling."

I snorted and bent down to pick up my greatsword, pointedly ignoring Solas until I had it sheathed.  Then I bluntly turned to face him, trying to force the calm into my system.

But then he opened his mouth and started to talk.  "My name is Solas, if there are to be--"

My good hand stung smartly as it connected with Solas' face.  He staggered sideways, but made no noise or pain or shock.   _"'Don't do anything stupid,'_ she said.  You bald little  _mitch!"_ I seethed.  I had to get away before I accidentally broke somebody's nose.  Or neck.  Or everything.  Freak, I hated being this angry.

I began to trudge down to the nearby barricaded staircase.  "Sealing that rift means I may be able to seal that one up there," I snapped as I pointed to the torn sky.  "So let's go."

"Varric will not be joining us," Cassandra challenged.  I looked over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow.  "His help is appreciated, but..."

"He's coming.  I may be mad at him, but we need his help."

I knew Varric was smugly smiling at Cassandra, even though I couldn't see him.  

Ugh.

-

I braced shaking hands onto my kneecaps as I struggled to draw in air.  Hopefully, the symptoms I had back on Earth would only surface when I closed rifts.  But if even the tiny ones caused such a reaction, what would the big one do?

"You okay, Al?" Varric asked softly, his concern for my well-being overcoming the dispute we had only fifteen minutes ago.

With a nod I stood.  The world became clear once more.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I'm fine."

"The rift is gone," Cassandra said to the terrified soldiers guarding the doors we had come to.  "Open the gates!"

"Right away, Lady Cassandra."

We entered the bridge that looked to be a base of operations.  The tang of blood and body fluids mixed in with fire and metal hit my nose.  Oddly enough, I was used to it.  All those years working in clinics and shelters made me that way.  "Whatever that thing on your hand is," Varric said to me, unable to let his protective hold on my arm drop, "it's useful."

Cassandra led the way to what seemed to be a Chantry brother and Leliana, both of whom were arguing.  Oh, great.

I leaned down and muttered in Varric's ear, "Ten sovereigns say they're yelling about me."

He chuckled.  "I'm not gonna bet on something I know I'll lose to."

"I see you've become less fun in your  _older_ age."

"Keep trying to rile me, see where it gets you."

As we approached the Chantry brother, who pushed off the table he was leaning on with both hands on.  "Ah," he said reproachfully, "here they come."

Leliana stepped forward, looking over all of us.  "You made it.  Chancellor Roderick, this is--"

"I know who she is," he interrupted, directly meeting my hardened gaze.  "As grand chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."

"'Order me?'  You are a glorified clerk!" Cassandra said with chagrin.  "A bureaucrat!"

"And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!"

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as we you well know."  Leliana's voice was colder than the snow that fell from the injured sky.

"Justinia is dead!  We must elect a replacement, and obey  _her_ orders on the matter!"

I raised my glowing green appendage and cleared my throat.  "Uh, maybe if you haven't noticed, but it seems like nobody is in charge here."  My hand lowered, gaze challenging Chancellor Roderick.  "Especially not you."

That ruffled his robes.  "You shouldn't even  _be_ here!  Call a retreat, Seeker.  Our position here is hopeless."

She wasn't swayed.  "We can stop this before it's too late."

"How?  you won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers."

"We  _must_ get to the temple.  It's the quickest route."

"But not the safest," Leliana chimed.  "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.

Cassandra shook her head.  "We lost contact with an entire squad on that path.  It is too risky."

Then Chancellor Roderick had to put in his opinion, even though we didn't care about it.  "Listen to me.  Abandon this now before more lives are lost!"

The Breach pulsed and spread, igniting the Mark and making me cringe.  I had enough grit not to cry out, this time, but it distracted me long enough to not notice Cassandra turning to me and asking, "How do  _you_ think we should proceed?"

I blankly stared at her for a few seconds before processing what she said. "Why Cassandra, if you're okay with taking orders from a prisoner then you have a lot about your life to rethink," I said earnestly.

"With a mouth like that, it gives all the more reason to imprison her," Chancellor Roderick said darkly.  I waved everybody off and pinched the bridge of my nose in thought.  Going with the soldiers may be the safest, yes, but the longer it took to get to the temple the more resistance we'd have.  And though the route through the mountain was dangerous, I believed that we could move swiftly enough to ensure that the Breach wouldn't stay open longer than necessary.  I just hoped that Cullen and Bubberston were safe.

"Use the mountain path," I decided firmly so there would be no dissent.  "We need to work together.  You all know what's at stake."  The last part was said looking directly at the chancellor.

We set into motion once more.  "Leliana, bring everyone left to the valley.  Everyone," the Right Hand instructed the Left before departing.

As we passed the Chancellor said, "On your head be the consequences, Seeker."

She only lifted her head up higher.

Defiantly.

I liked that.

-

For a moment, all the four of us could do was stand and gape at the tear in the Veil.  As Cassandra and Varric continued to focus their gaze on it, I dared to cast a glance at Solas.

...Only to find that he was looking right back at me.

 _"Every villain sees himself as the hero,"_ I softly, bitingly spoke in elven.  Solas' eyes filled with an ancient ache.  

_"Believe me, this was not what I intended--"_

_"I don't want to hear it!"_ I hissed louder than I intended, grabbing the attention of the other two.

"Do you guys know each other?" Varric asked warily, hesitant to know if he even wanted an answer.

 _"You could--"_ I started, stopped because I was still speaking in elven, and switched back to Common.  "You could say that."

"Ah, so the plot thickens."

"Shut up," I sighed, but it held no malice.  

Varric turned his head to the danger once more.  "The Breach is a long way up."

"No shit," I answered.  I then let out a laugh.  "And it looks like a giant green asshole."

The dwarf groaned loudly.  "You just _had_ to be the one to say it out loud, didn't you?"

Leliana's arrival put an end to the potential conversation.  "You're here.  Thank the Maker," she said as she jogged up to us.  

"Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple," Cassandra instructed.  After that she faced me.  "This is your chance to end this.  Are you ready?"

"Depends.  Do you have wings you can graft to my back?  A magical spell that'll send me hurtling into the Breach?  A trebuchet?"  Man, I really needed to stop being a dick.

Unfortunately, it was Solas who answered.  "No.  This rift was the first, and it is the key.  Seal it, and perhaps we can seal the Breach."

"Then let's find a way down.  And be careful."

Not five minutes later we came across something I had hoped to never see again.  It made my heart sputter, made my mind go back to years ago.  

Varric and I shared grim looks.  "You know this is red lyrium, Seeker," he said lowly.

"I see it, Varric."

"But what's it doing  _here?"_

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath, corrupted it," Solas replied.  

"It's evil.  Whatever you do,  _don't_ touch it."

 

"Remember what happened to Meredith, Varric?" I prompted, the haunting memory swimming to the surface of my thoughts. "What the red lyrium did to her?"

"I really don't want to think about that right now, Al."

I hummed in agreement.  There were a few theories I had on red lyrium--none of them confirmed or tested, no, but still there.  I had a lot of time to think when I was on the road.  Also, I had a theory that explained how nugs were actually vessels for demons.  That one was a bit iffy, but who cared?

**_"Keep the sacrifice still."_ **

My feet stumbled at the sudden voice.   ** _"Someone, help me!"_**

"That is Divine Justinia's voice," Cassandra spoke in a slightly wavering tone.  We jumped down the six-foot ledge to get to the rift, its crystalline protrusions sinking in and out of the Fade and making my hand flare up.

 ** _"Someone, help me!"_** the bodiless cry repeated.  My jaw dropped when I heard myself speak next.

**_"What's going on here?"_ **

"That was your voice," Cassandra said in astonishment.  "Most Holy called out to you.  But..."

A vision appeared from the rift, projecting the scene of a dark figure keeping a woman in Chantry robes bound with tainted magic.  It stood several feet taller than her, eyes red and flaming and hateful.

Then I appeared.   ** _"What's going on here?"_** I asked boldly.  Then my eyes had laid themselves on the figure and widened in shock.   ** _"Oh, not you,"_** I breathed, face twisting and body moving into a defensive stance.

 ** _"Run while you can!"_** Justinia screamed.   ** _"Warn them!"_**

**_"We have an intruder.  Take her, but do not kill her.  I still have plans for her, yet."_ **

The vision brightened, engulfing the images until it dissipated into nothing.  

What the poop?  Who had I spoken to...?

Ohhh, right.  Double poop.  

"You  _were_ there!" Cassandra exclaimed.  "Who attacked?  And the Divine, is she...?  Was this vision true?  What are we seeing? Who did _you_ recognize?"

"I don't remember," I said evenly, firm in the truth.  No, I did not remember.  But I knew who was there.

It looked like I'd have to get back into the groove of lying through my teeth, again.

Solas came to my aid, much to my disdain.  "Echoes of what happened here.  The Fade bleeds into this place," he explained.  Ugh.  The  _Fade_ was reflecting off his shiny dome like a disco ball on a freshly waxed rollerskating rink.  I had told him to keep his hair, but did he listen to me?   _Nooo._ "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed...albeit temporarily.  I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely.  However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

"That means demons," Cassandra shouted to the soldiers around us.  "Stand ready!"

My time to shine, it seemed.  Fan-freaking-tastic.  

I raised my hand to the rift looming above us, barely having to do anything before it connected in a torrent of light.  My ears popped with the change of pressure in the air, but still I let it continue.  There was no blurred vision or pain in my chest; perhaps it was due to me opening the rift and not closing it.  

The backlash still sent me soaring a few feet.  The wind was knocked out of me when I hit the ground, but Varric was there to prop me back up.  I steadily focused on my breathing, using the same practices I was taught whenever I fell off my horse in equestrian.  It wasn't nice, and there was a pride demon that needed killing, but I wasn't going anywhere until I got some air back.  

The battle was long and tiring.  The more I had to disrupt the rift to weaken the pride demon, the more energy it sapped from me.  In the end, I wasn't even the one who gave the killing blow to the demon.  I just watched, and when I was ordered to seal the rift I did without hesitation.

I  _should_ have done it with hesitation, though, because it freaking sucked nuts.  It sucked  _so much_ that it knocked me out.  

Solas was the first to lean over me before I succumbed to unconsciousness.   _"You..."_ I croaked in elven.

"Shh, _lethallin._ Save your energy."

I felt myself growing distant from the world.  I needed to say what I had to say.  _"You look like an egg."_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHA I DID NOT SPEND ALL DAY WRITING THIS CHAPTER WHEN I HAVE OTHER THINGS TO DO NO THAT IS NOT WHAT I DID AT ALL
> 
> LIKE TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THINK ABOUT THIS CHAPTER OKAY I'M NOT YELLING AT YOU I PROMISE I'M JUST REALLY HAPPY I GOT TO THIS POINT
> 
> Also, I was half-tempted to end the chapter when Alaran meets Solas again, but not even I could put myself through that. You're welcome.


	23. Severely Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude, of sorts

Nightmares were a funny thing.

And by “funny thing,” I meant that they were downright awful.  But everybody kind of knows that, so why am I reiterating myself?

Oh, right.  Probably because I was terrified.  And when I was terrified, my brain tended to run a whole lot faster than when I was calm and sitting down with a nice cup of tea.  Tea.  Early Grey.  Hot.  Computer, could you get me out of this nightmare I was in?

 _Negative,_ came the neutral reply.  Great. 

So it turned out that after sealing the giant rift under the Breach and getting blasted off into an unwilling unconsciousness, I couldn’t wake up.  Nope.  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t.  Not only that, but the dang mark on my hand decided to make my unending dream state full of bad stuff.  Like?  Wasn’t that really unfair?  What did I do to deserve such a hell?

When one nightmare would end, another would begin almost immediately.  I hardly had time to catch my breath or call for help.  I was in the current state of not being able to make any noise above a whisper, so whenever I screamed in hope to alert friendly spirits that I needed their aid, all that came out was a rattling wheeze.

Currently, I was in Lowtown at night.  I had just walked a drunken Hawke home and was trying to make it back as fast as I could before anything could come out from the shadows and snatch me away.  I didn’t feel demonic presences; no, this was just the Fade collaborating with the dark side of my brain.

But I supposed my brain was dark on all sides.  It _was_ inside my head, after all, and I doubted there was any light—

Men were suddenly behind me, all of them grasping onto my clothes and trying to haul me away onto one of their ships.  “Good money, you’ll be,” one breathed hotly in my ear.  Another reached for my breast and painfully squeezed it.  I cried out but there was no sound.  _“Carver,”_ I mouthed as fingernails dug into my now naked skin, tearing away at it and leaving bloody holes and gashes where smooth porcelain flesh used to be.  _“Carver, h…help…”_

But the younger Hawke didn’t come, not like he had in real life all those years ago.  I _knew_ this was a dream, that this was a rendition of one of my first terrifying experiences in Thedas.  Yet still I couldn’t go anywhere, couldn’t wake up.  I was so deep in the Fade that in order to get out I would need help from somebody else entirely. 

A cold blade slashed across my throat, creating a cascade of steaming hot blood that spilled down my front.  I grasped to cover it, to staunch the flow, but there was no end.  I was going to bleed out and die, right outside the Hanged Man.

The door to the tavern opened, and then I was looking at Hawke and our friends.  Except, they were all looking back down at me with disdain and disgust.  “Trying to be a blood mage, I see,” Merrill commented as she picked at one of her nails.  “The templars will come and get you, you know.  Then they’ll rape you.  Over, and over, and over, and over.”

“Not like there’s anything much to handle,” Fenris put in.  “Who’d want to even touch a half-starved thing like her?”

“Give Al a break, would ya?” Varric said with an easy chuckle.  “It’s not as if she’s lied to us the entire time about who she is.”

“I’ve always wondered what she looked like underneath,” Isabela said.  She crouched down and began tearing away at my face, humming and calmly shushing me to be quiet as I tried to wail and shriek. 

When my former visage was strewn in front of me in a bloody mess, I clutched my old one with both hands.  “No wonder why nobody really wanted to be your friend,” Hawke muttered flatly.  “Maker, you’re ugly.  With your father’s eyes, too?  I bet it killed you to even look at yourself in the mirror every day.”

“Ugh, I can’t stand the sight of her,” Aveline scoffed.  “To think we’d help her after all the horrible things she’s lied about?  Do something, Hawke.”

The sharp bladed end of a stave plunged into my back, severing my backbone and sending me spinning into darkness. 

…When I opened my eyes again, I found myself looking up at the white-tiled ceiling of a hospital room.  “I don’t understand,” my mother’s voice whined beside me.  I slowly turned my head over to look at her, my vision blurry because I didn’t have my glasses.  She was sitting in one of the nearby chairs, dressed in her casual-professional New York attire.  “You had so much going for you, sweetie.  And now…wasted.”  Mom then stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder.  “I have therapy at noon today, then a lunch date with one of my friends.”  By that she meant she was meeting up with her current boyfriend.  “This whole ordeal is putting so much strain on your father and me.”  She walked over to briefly put a hand on my bare head, more as a forced gesture of love duly out of obligation than one of true concern.  “I’ll see you again when I can.”

Okay, this wasn’t a nightmare, yet.  That was just how my mother had acted.  I was almost glad I couldn’t clearly see her face; it was something I never hoped to truly see again.  So what was going to twist this scene?

My dad then walked into the room.

Ah.  There it was.

“Get up,” he said to me.  “You have a concert to go to.”

 _But I’m dying,_ I tried to say, but my mouth wouldn’t work.  All I could do was let my father jerk the blankets back and sit me up, revealing the dress I wore for my very first recital.  He shoved my violin and its accompanying bow in my hands and went to take a seat in the performance hall, where a vast, faceless crowd waited for me to make music. 

I lifted my violin up, only to find that my arm was too weak to hold the bow against the strings.  Everybody was waiting for me, expecting a great show.  There was so much pressure and I couldn’t fail.  Failure wasn’t acceptable, and my parents expected only the best.  Only the best.  Anything less than that would ruin me, ruin the family. 

I drug the bow across my violin, but my fingers wouldn’t move and I couldn’t apply enough pressure to create an adequate note.  The only sound that produced was a squeaking, screeching noise.  The fine ivory hair on my bow unraveled, rendering me helpless.  All I could do was stare out at the dead silent audience, limbs trembling as I strained to stay upright. 

Then the whispering started.

_“…Is she alright?”_

_“…I doubt she’ll make it to see spring.”_

_“…What a waste of talent.”_

_“…Her parents are probably devastated.”_

The violin strings snapped, twanging discordantly and snapping at my fingers, causing blood to draw.  I had to show them that I was just fine!  That I was still me!  I was more than just a sickness, a burden on those around me.  I had to be more, because if I couldn’t do what I was good at, then who the hell was I?

 _“W…wait,”_ I rasped, shambling to the grand piano also on stage.  The murmuring only grew louder, and it was getting harder and harder for me to breathe.  My vision was becoming so blurry that when I saw down on the piano bench, the black and white keys seemed to morph together.  Still, I placed my shaking, frigid fingers down and began to play.

_“…Clap, even though she’s not doing good.  Don’t want to hurt the poor thing’s feelings.”_

_“…Why is she even up there?”_

_“…Oh, she looks absolutely dreadful.”_

The keys crumbled to dust underneath my touch.  I gaped in horror.  No.  No, no, this wasn’t happening.  This was just a dream and all of the things I was feeling weren’t real—

Still I attempted to play, pouring all the will and strength I could because I _had to prove to them that I was still capable._ But the harder I pressed down, the more the keys were destroyed.  Before long, nothing remained but a decrepit piano, with warped wood and jagged pieces that sliced my fingertips.  I tried hiding it from the public, but they saw it all, and they pitied and judged me.

I was wracked with a fit of hoarse coughing, each one worsening and sending sharp pains through my lungs and back.  My bones splintered, my muscles turned to mush, my blood became poison.  I choked and slumped to the ground, the cold wooden stage greeting me with harsh welcome. 

_“…Is that it?”_

_“…She’s giving up, now.  What a shame.”_

_“…Wasn’t she supposed to fight?”_

_“…Oh, well.  I guess it’s over.  Let’s go.”_

_“…It’s not like she has any problems with us leaving.  She has no feelings.”_

_“…Isolated.”_

_“…Alone.”_

_“…Too good to open up to anybody considered lesser than she.”_

Emptiness filled my gut, my lungs, my chest, my head.  No.  I was…I just couldn’t…it wasn’t that…I needed…

I tried to stand to yell, to call everybody back.  All I managed to do was sit upright on my knees.  While my vision cleared and the pain subsided, I was still in the midst of the nightmare.  The nightmare that was laying all my deepest, most secretive insecurities and fears bare.  What could be worse than this right here?  Than what I was feeling right now?

Who the hell did I think I was?

Before I could succumb to the numbness of it all and revert to my old ways during the last few months of my sickness, there was an audible sigh of relief from the left wing of the stage.  I reluctantly turned my head to look at who it could be.

Solas strode quickly to my side, saying, “I thought you were lost, Alaran.  You left no trail in the Fade that could point to where you may have withdrawn to.”

Was that concern in his gray-blue eyes?  I couldn’t be sure.  I couldn’t be sure of anything, anymore.  Not when my mind was torturing me so cruelly. 

I waited motionlessly for Solas to do something.  I didn’t know how he could make me suffer even more, but I _did_ know that he really could if he put his mind to it.  “Alaran, _lethallan,”_ he spoke softly, crouching down beside me and placing a tentative hand on my back.  “Come.  You need to free yourself of this place.”

“No.”  My voice surprised us both.  I had no idea I could talk again, but now that I could I was going to use it before it was gone again.  “I’m not leaving with the person whose intent was rending the world I have grown to love.”

Solas’ brow creased into an unreadable line, yet he did not move.  “Let us discuss this when we are not…”  He looked around, taking in the surroundings.  “What is this place?”

I saw nothing wrong in answering him.  “A performance hall.  I used to…”  My throat closed up, too dry to let me continue.

“This is a theatre?” Solas asked with a small amount of awe.  “Indoors?  How does the light…ah.  I see, now.”

“Did you used to perform?” I questioned bitingly.  His nonchalance and compassion was giving me heartburn.

“No, but I enjoyed watching many,” Solas responded.  “When we weren’t warring with each other, quite a number of memorable plays were produced.  In fact, there was—”

“What are you doing?” I interrupted harshly, staring him down.  “I was in the midst of a million nightmares, yet so far your halfhearted attempts to comfort me and ignore what truly needs to be discussed is by far the worst thing I’ve had to endure.”  I staggered to my feet, coldly brushing away the hand that was resting on my back.  The nightmares would be over.  _Now._ I was in controll of my own mind. 

With that intent, my attire shifted into familiar trousers, a tunic with a sash knotted around the waist, a woolen scarf, and a duster too big for me.  Instead of boots were thick footwraps meant to withstand long treks and use. 

I folded my arms against my sternum and jerked my head to one of the wings.  “Get out,” I commanded. 

Solas got that aching, I’m-So-Old-and-Ancient-You-Wouldn’t-Understand-My-Pain kind of expression, but rose to his feet alongside me.  “Very well.  But I suggest you accompany me; leaving you alone may make you vulnerable to more nightmares.”

He made a good point, I had to admit.  I gave a single nod and walked out with him through one of the wings, which was more like the ones in my high school proscenium auditorium than anything else.  As soon as we passed through the thick black drapes the Fade pressed upon my body, forming and shifting to whatever it felt like would suit me the most.  Because the Fade was not a wild, untamed thing; it was a force, but a controllable force.  Maybe less so with the inhabitants within, but as long as I had great enough will and focus, I could bend the Fade to my every whim.  If I looked at a graph that showed how well I could manage myself in this realm, the time I spent dealing with my nightmares would be considered an outlier.  An outlier that I never wanted to deal with again.

I made the scenery a neutral place; plain and absent despite the vividness of every color the eye could register, one that displayed and masked emotions simultaneously.  If Solas was impressed by my work, he didn’t show it.  “Okay, we’re out,” I said flatly, tossing my braid over my shoulder and letting it swing loosely down my back.  “Now I’d like to have you get out of here as well.”

He ignored my demand.  “You have been unconscious for two days.  I suspect you’ll awaken sometime tomorrow, as your condition has readily improved.  When you do and are confronted by Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Leliana, they will ask you how we know each other.  This wouldn’t have been a problem, had I not told them earlier that we were not acquaintances.”

My eyebrow quirked upwards, but not in a friendly manner.  “How surprising.  Something you didn’t think through backfired.  I never would have imagined.” 

Solas’ jaw twitched but he calmly continued.  “I informed them that I did not want to reveal how we knew each other because we were former lovers.”  My eyebrow rose with the building chagrin inside of me.  “We met in Kirkwall, had a short affair, and never saw each other again.”

“Former.  Lovers.”

“Yes.”

“You do realize that there is no possibility of us ever being together,” I said, steel on my tongue.  Solas’ slight movement may have been considered a flinch, had it not been for the complete lack of emotion in his countenance. 

“Be that as it may, the two of us together need to maintain a certain backstory.  Do that, and they will never suspect.”

“And what if I ever decide to tell them the truth?”

He snorted derisively.  “The truth about what?  You and I both understand that if one of us reveals the others’ many deep and repercussive secrets, the same will be returned in kind.”

“Not in kind, believe me,” I retorted, unwilling to admit out loud that he was right. 

Solas’ nose started to crinkle, something I had rarely seen when we spent time together in the Fade.  “My memory seems to mislead me; you were much more amicable when you did not have the Mark from my foci on your hand.  Perhaps it has altered your personality?  Making you more quick to anger?  You spoke so highly to Master Tethras, yet when you encountered him after five years of not seeing each other, your greeting was less than welcoming and warm.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t immediately throw myself into your arms,” I spat, then barked a humorless laugh.  “Did you use spirits to form an image of me so you could do whatever you wanted?  Kissed me more?  Tore my clothes off with your _wolf teeth?_ Had me throw myself on you—”

_“Alaran.”_

“I am not _changed._ Your delusions of me and who I was five years ago are a mockery, Solas.  And for you to judge my real-world personality after two minutes of observing a time when I was under _great duress—_ from you, need I reiterate—is extremely biased and irrational.”  I smacked my palm against my forehead, a mimicking _Lightbulb!_ expression plastered on my face.  “Oh, wait!  That’s what you are!”

I wasn't entirely sure why I was angry with Solas; I had known what he would do from the very first time I had met him, and that hadn't stopped me.  I also had plenty of years to process what was ultimately to come and not be so irrationally mad about it.  Maybe it was due to me  _being_ in the position I had forcefully made myself believe I would never be in.  I hadn't thought that I would wind up as one of the main protagonists of the  _Inquisition_ game.  In fact, I had been caught up in my own little world that I hadn't thought to think that maybe—just maybe—going to the Conclave would result in what it did.  My full, painful immersion into the world of Thedas had completely sidetracked me from contemplating things that would come to pass.  And because of that, I didn’t prepare at all.  I couldn't worry about what Solas would do or when Corypheus would come because I was too busy with the life I had.  

And what an interesting life it had been.

My words managed to carry the sting I wanted them to.  Good.  I wanted him to hurt, because I freaking hurt, too.  Nobody was going to win through the method, but that was how it usually worked.  In fact, I could already tell that _neither_ of us were going to come out better.  "Alaran, I thought you to be—"

The Fade shifted around us violently, erasing the once neutral place into something akin to the eye of a storm.  It took me a moment to realize it was of my own volition.  I made no attempt to make it cease.  "It doesn't matter what you thought of me, Solas!  You still did what you did.  Whether or not I was in the picture made no difference to you."

His jaw set, eyes frosting over.  He was closing himself off.  Or, as I personally liked to do, _put the veneer up_.  "You told me to exercise caution when I first awoke.  You made it  _seem_ that this world wasn't a wretched place.”  He took a step forward, attempting to gain advantage by using our height difference.  Intimidation.  Well sucks to suck, buddy, but I had already faced far worse and didn't back down.  “Alaran, I've shown you what Arlathan was like; surely you must understand just what was lost!"

"Yes, I understand what was lost!  Endless civil wars and relentless bloodshed was lost!  You would have the world destroyed because you  _didn't like the outcome._ Do you realize just how  _evil_ that is?"

"And the world now is so much better?" Solas snapped coldly.  "My People have lost everything.  Mages are persecuted to the point of extinction.  Titans have passed beyond legend.  Everything that once was is  _forgotten."_

"Nothing is truly forgotten unless there is no desire to remember and restore it," I responded forcefully.  "You took a coward's course of action.  And I know—I  _know,_ Solas—that you were fully aware of what would happen if you tore down the Veil."  Now I was nearly toe-to-toe with him, tilting my chin up in its usual defiant state.

"Seeing what this world has become, I truly cannot fathom how it could be worse than what it is now."

Silence filled with what seemed to be the entirety of the Fade itself.  I had to gape at Solas for several moments in an attempt to process what I just heard.  He made no move to take back what he said, confirming that he meant every syllable, every inflection, every breath of the single statement.  And I honestly couldn’t tell if he even felt an ounce of guilt.

Then my mind started to work, again.  "Am I to be ended at your hands, now?" I asked in a dangerously soft voice.  "Do I pose too much of a threat to your plans, oh deceitful Fen'Harel?  Will I stand in your way of destroying not one civilization, but two?"

Solas took a step back, his rigid posture and icy demeanor shattering.  It pained a part of me to be the one to inflict such hurt, but Solas and I were similar in the way that it was extremely difficult to go back on the things we had said prior.  So I remained silent and stoic, my chin still tilted slightly upwards and shoulders squared defiantly.  "Leave this place, Solas.  Leave it knowing that I won't reveal your identity, for the time being.  There is too much at stake to lose the wisdom and knowledge you possess."  I held up my marred hand.  "When this is all over, I want this off.  I don't want to be reminded of what could have happened to this world I love any longer than I need to.  In return, you refrain from spilling my own origins."   _Maker knows I never thought I would have to worry about it after leaving Kirkwall._ "Agreed?"

"Agreed."  It was barely a whisper.  I gave a curt nod.

“Then we have nothing further to discuss.”

The sharpness of the Fade dissipated, returning to its neutral state.  I chose to be the one to walk away first, refusing to look over my shoulder.  I was hoping for that to be an end to our conversation, but alas, somebody just _couldn’t leave it alone._

“I will see the world restored, Alaran.  It is beyond me to understand how you can live in a sea of Tranquil, unknowing of their origins, their heritage.”

I halted, my closing my eyes briefly and drawing in a breath.  Okay.  So that was how it was going to be.  “Nothing lasts forever, Solas,” I sighed.  “Even this.  If nothing changed, then nothing good could happen.”

“And you consider this _good?”_ His voice was a mixture of hardness and despair, unable to decide which one he was feeling.  Maybe both.  Maybe more.

“Yes.”  I cast my eyes down at the tear on my palm; it was calmer now that it was in the place it was meant to be.  “For a person who firmly believes in cause and effect, you seem to be unable to accept that this world is the effect from what you caused.  But I…I like this world.  I love the people in it.  Your actions created a place that I have no idea what I would do without.  Sure, it…”  _Strung up and tortured, but that wasn’t the worst part._ “It’s a cruel place, and many things do need to change.  Yet I have seen beauty, and love, and things so…so _wonderful_ that to even imagine anybody taking that away makes me want to instantly fight back.”  A half-laugh escaped through my lips, so soft that I almost couldn’t hear it.  “Isn’t it kind of funny that for somebody who believes that everybody has a right to exercise their free will, they try to take a course of action that would rip it all away?”

“Alaran…”

“It was never your decision to make, Solas.”

“Then who’s was it?”

“We both know the answer to that question.”  I started to walk again, beginning the process of shutting my mind from Solas’ presence.  I would ensure to keep it that way unless something happened otherwise. 

Great.  Our relationship—whatever route it would take—was already set to be a complicated one. 

Before we separated entirely, I glanced over my shoulder and called, _“Dirthara-ma.”_

May he learn.

May we all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rest in fucking pieces, Solas


	24. Readjusting Back to Assery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al has a hard time handling, okay?

After noticing the dull, steady throb in my hand, I realized that there was a considerable amount of weight on my stomach.  My eyes reluctantly cracked open, both of them nearly glued shut from being closed for days.  When they managed to register the scene around me, it took some time to focus my vision.  

"And she awakens from her slumber," a throaty voice proclaimed from a few feet away.  Immediately after a familiar slobbery tongue slathering all across my face and hair, making me groan and sputter.  Unfortunately, I was unable to push off the giant Mabari who weighed more than I did.

"Ugh, Bubs--getoffme," I rasped, as all the air had been forced from my lungs by his massive bulk.  "Y-you're killing me, Smalls."

He took the hint and climbed off, switching to the barking-and-prancing-wildly-around-the-room tactic.  I smiled faintly and sat up, the blanket sliding off of me to reveal the new attire I had been dressed in.  "What the fack is this," I grimaced, looking down at the beige, pajama-like outfit.  "It's hideous.  Colors like this wash me out."

"Oh, yeah, because it's totally the color's fault," Varric chuckled as he stood, crossing the small cabin I was in to sit on the edge of my bed.  I rolled my eyes and swung my feet over the side, absently shaking my left hand.  "How does it feel?"

I could have replied with something sarcastic, dodging the question and getting away with it.  But I had outgrown that for the most part.  Now I was more serious and honest, straightforward and...

Ha! Who was I kidding?  It was a strong defense mechanism as ever.  "It feels...it feels like  _the Fade_ is engraved into my palm," I whispered disbelievingly.  "How crazy is that?  How crazy is that, Bubberston?"

He barked loudly, running past Varric.  A moment later the dwarf's nose scrunched up and he waved his hand in front of his face.  "Andraste's dainty feet, that's  _putrid."_

Before I could say my retort out loud, the door opened and a female elf walked in, carrying a crate in her arms.  She actually had a happy expression on her face due to being greeted by Bubs, but it vanished when her eyes lifted beyond my dog and to me.  Fear then encompassed her entire body and she quickly stammered, "I-I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"

"She's only been conscious for about a minute, Ivena," Varric assured with a friendly smile.  He saw her anxiety and jumped to quell it.  "Her dog hasn't even had time to calm down."

Bubs gave an affirmative bark, then continued cropdusting the entire room.  Ivena didn't seem to hear Varric and fell to her knees with a _thump_.  "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing.  I am but a humble servant."

She was then interrupted by slobbery kisses.  "Bubba, back," I said, casually snapping my fingers.  I didn't want him accidentally swallowing her head whole.  He followed my command and stepped away.  I patted the empty spot on the bed beside me, and he readily jumped up.  "It's alright," I said with a warm smile and an easy laugh, getting to my feet and helping Ivena stand back up.  "I doubt I deserve being bowed to; the most I think I should get is a nod or a pat on the back."  I turned my head back to Varric.  "I'm assuming it closed?  The rift?  And the Breach stopped growing?"

"No thanks to that thing on your hand," Varric replied, motioning to the Mark.  "Which stopped growing, too, fortunately."

"It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days," Ivena added timidly.  

"I've always wanted to be popular," I sighed wanly.  

"Well, you'll certainly get it," Varric added, rising to his feet as well.  "The stabby Seeker wanted you to go to the Chantry the second you got up."

I exaggeratedly grimaced.  The face made Ivena cover her mouth to hide her smile.  "And it's been well over a second, hasn't it?  Damn.  I doubt she'll wait for me to get a nice bath and a hot meal, either."

"Nope," Varric affirmed, clapping me on the back.  "And to make it better, Chancellor Roderick is with her, too."

I bit back a groan.  "Peachy," I said in a stifled voice.  "This is going to be lovely."

Ivena and Varric left, leaving me to get changed out of the pajamas and into a fresh change of leggings and a tunic.  I would have worn what I had been during the whole "Sealing the Rift" ordeal, but upon feeling them I noticed that they were stiff and crusty.  So that was a negative.  What had been set out for me was plain--most likely a servant's clothes--but I made it slightly better by tying my sash around it and throwing my scarf around my neck.  Both weren't in the cleanest condition, but they were better than the other pairs of garments.  I also put on some woolen socks before shoving my feet back into clunky boots; I almost forgot that this was Ferelden, and I didn't have magical talents to warm my toesies up if I wore footwraps.  

Once I had rebraided my hair--which was in desperate need of a wash--I strapped my dagger behind my back, hiding it with the oversized duster that...

I lifted the collar to my nose and sniffed, smelling the scent of pine oil.  In fact, it looked less cracked and worn, if not darker then richer and more vibrant.  That slick bastard.  

That loving, kind bastard I didn't get a chance to hug.

With that as the next priority (the first going to see what Seeker Cassandra wanted), I motioned for Bubba to join me at my side.  He did so loyally, puffing his chest out and looking like a true wardog.  "Should I leave my greatsword?" I asked him.

 _Probably,_ he answered.

"Yeah, okay.  If anybody is going to be chopping any limbs off, it's gonna be the Seeker."  I took a deep, steady breath, putting up my veneer as I did so.  After doing so, I opened the door and walked out.

Aaaaaand everybody in Haven was now watching me.  Not only that, but they had their right arms crossed over their chests, showing signs of respect and gratitude.  There was even a taste of reverence in the air, sharp on my tongue.  

I squared my shoulders and started to walk, avoiding eye contact as best I could and making a beeline up the steps and to the Chantry.  I sincerely hoped that I was correct in assuming nobody here was as crazy as the residents in  _Origins._

Without trying to be too disconcerted, I speed-walked until I was at the giant Chantry doors, pushing through one and hoping that more wouldn't be waiting to get a good glimpse of me.  Fortunately, everybody had chosen to gawk at the Elf with the Glowing Hand outside, leaving the building I stepped into empty.  It  _could_ have been quiet, too, but there was indistinct shouting coming from the other end of the hall.  Behind that one door, presumably.  And lucky me, I was betting that was where I needed to go.

My steps were slow and trudging, ears flatting as I came near enough to hear Cassandra's and Roderick's muffled arguing.  I had to forcibly push out the thought of me bursting through the door and belting out  _All You Need Is Love_ from my mind, lest I break down into a fit of semi-hysterical laughter.  I couldn't afford to be panicked and terrified, now; being weak or timid wasn't something I liked doing, especially not in the situation I was about to insert myself in.  I had to be focused and guarded, sharp and quick, if I was to make the impression that I wasn't somebody who had a will that could be manipulated.  Though the people I was meeting--besides Chancellor Roderick--weren't  _bad,_ per say, they would look for opportune times when they could push me against a wall that I couldn't escape from.

The only person who controlled my actions was me.

"Ready to be the hardcorest of the hardcore?" I said to Bubba.  

_Aren't we always?_

"Oh, good point."

-

"Does it trouble you?" Cassandra questioned me as we walked back to the room we had previously come from.  While she, Leliana, and the other "advisers" made preparations to inform the world that the Inquisition had been reborn, I went and got a good wash, ate some stew left out for me when I was bathing, and redressed in the clothes I was formerly wearing.  My hair was fine enough that it didn't take long to dry, but was still slightly damp with water when I pulled it back in its usual braid.  That became chillingly apparent when I walked back outside and got my head nearly frozen off.  I had instructed Bubba to go and find Varric, who wasn't around when I got back; I was almost positive he was going to love having a foul-smelling dog nearly as tall as him at his side.

I'm sure in the game there was some kind of heroic, blood-pumping, This'll-Get-Your-Attention moment between the time of Chancellor Roderick's supreme beatdown and now.  But in real life it was less grand.  I just found that I was still cold, and sleepy from the soup I had eaten.  I'd rather be back in bed than walking upright next to the tall human lady.

It was funny that I had been considered and elf for so long that I believed it myself, and I could be okay with calling people "human" without feeling guilty.  Come to think of it, there were a lot of things I had stopped feeling guilty about...even if they were necessarily good things.

"Oh, this old thing?" I remarked casually, holding my palm flat so we could view the faintly glowing Mark.  "Not in the way that you would think, truth be told.  Though I suppose that from all the pain I'm sure it has and will cause me, I wouldn't mind having it gone."

Cassandra made a soft grunt of agreement before saying, "We have need of it yet."

"Ah, yes, so you've mentioned."  I gave her a smile to assure her that my tone of voice was only teasing and not passive-aggressive.  She quickly settled the appearing scowl.

"What's important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach.  You've given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed--provided the Mark has more power.  The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place.  That is not easy to come by."

Upon hearing the name  _Solas,_ I couldn't help but let a little scowl of my own seep into my expression.  Cassandra caught it and, after a moment of hesitation, said, "I am aware that the two of you have a...history.  Will that be a problem?"

I snorted.  "For the time being?  No.  We both know what our priorities are.  But I'd be lying if I said things weren't going to be a little awkward between us.  So bear that in mind, dear Seeker."

It was obvious she had another question to ask me.  My eyebrow raised playfully as she struggled to get it out, waiting patiently for her own words even though I knew what it was going to be.  "How did it...how did it end?"

"Oh Cassandra, you romantic," I instantly gushed, lightly slapping her with the back of my hand on her arm.  Her face grew stormy, but I paid it no mind.  "It was on a rainy night," I began.  "I had just stitched up his wounds from a fight with the Coterie.  As he was laying there on the cot, I expressed to him my desire for him to keep his luscious locks.  They were this very nice russet color, you see.  But he was ashamed that he had lost such a simple fight, and therefore swore to shave his head in lamentation.  Elves usually aren't that odd, but hoo boy, was he an odd one.  I begged him on my knees to keep them, but he could no longer bear to look at me, his shame was so great.  So with a broken heart and an even more injured body, Solas stood and gave me a kiss--a kiss I knew would be the last I would ever receive from him.  After that he stepped out into the dark and rain, the door shutting mournfully behind him.  Then I was left alone, dressed in my skimpy, silken nightgown stained with his blood and my own tears.  We never saw each other again."  I pretended to flick away water under my eye.  "Until now, of course."

"There is one thing that you and Varric have in common, it seems," Cassandra said with that dryness in her voice only Nevarrans could perfect.  "You're both full of horse shit."

I threw my head back and laughed, the sound bouncing off the Chantry walls.  The Seeker made a disgusted noise and continued striding to the room. Her long legs made it difficult for me to keep pace.  She rather angrily pushed the door open, but we had both composed ourselves in time to get to business.

My composure was lost a second later, though, when I locked eyes with the commander standing on the other side of the table.  "Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford," I drawled, placing a hand on my cocked hip and smirking.  "I like what you've done with your hair."

It got the reaction I wanted.  He blushed as prettily as he did when we last saw each other four years ago.  "Ah, yes.  Well, I see you've grown yours out," he said respectfully.  My smirk grew, and after a moment he did the same when he was unable to remain serious.  It highlighted the scar tracing up the side of his lip, an injury that seemed to be given ages and ages ago.  He looked...better.  Lots better.  Yet somehow worse at the same time.  It was as if the lyrium wasn't affecting him, anymore.

Oh, no.

"Cullen, as you know, vouched for your innocence when you fell out of the Fade," Cassandra explained.  "He assured us that you were not the one responsible for the explosion at the Conclave.  At least not intentionally."

"Lotta good it did me," I muttered, tracing over the small scab and its surrounding bruised area on my cheekbone.  The small injury was fading, but would still be present for a few more days.

"He did not seem it worthy to mention how... _difficult..._ you could be," the warrior said reluctantly.  "And tensions were high enough already."

"You punched her, didn't you?" Cullen asked exasperatedly.  

 "At the time she was deserving of it," Casandra said, jutting her chin out and refusing to be at complete fault.

"I kind of was," I added.  "But let's move on.  I heard they were calling you commander, now.  Commander of the Inquisition, I presume?"

"Yes," the Seeker answered.  "He leads our forces."

"Such as they are," Cullen said lowly, a heaviness filling his amber eyes.  "We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through."

_Not if I could help it._

"This is Lady Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."  My eyes landed on the regal, dark-skinned woman whose hair was set up in an intricately braided bun.  It was a common hairstyle in Antiva.  Her clothes were also bright and vibrant in the otherwise muted colors of the room, practically screaming that she was from the beautiful coastal nation with a craggy inland desert. 

 _"Andaran atish'an,"_ she greeted in the same accent I was expecting.  A flickering candle on her clipboard illuminated crystal blue eyes rimmed faintly with rose quartz around her pupils.  The same eyes momentarily fixed on the scar on my neck before moving back up to my gaze.  I had stopped minding when people were distracted by the pale, jagged pink scar that ran across my throat; it was noticeable, and to be offended by them looking at it would take too much effort for something that I cared too little about.  Besides, it did kind of looked cool.  Made me look more tough.  

I smiled and gave a small bow.  "I was not aware such a lovely lady could make my language sound prettier," I flirted, causing her to blush.  Man, she was  _pretty._

"You just heard the entirety of it," she said with a light laugh.  

"And of course you know Sister Leliana."

She nodded once to me and began to smoothly speak.  "My position here involves a degree of--"

"She is our spymaster," the Seeker interrupted bluntly.  

Leliana's lips pursed as she held back a sharp retort.  "Yes," she said with a false air of calm.  "Tactfully put, Cassandra."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you all.  Formally, this time," I said.  "But I doubt I was brought here just to be introduced."

"You are correct," Leliana said, her eyes going over me for the millionth time, trying to pick out anything that could be suspicious.  In all reality, I  _was_ still suspicious.  If Cullen had given her the last name that I used, she would have already sent her people to track down Clan Lavellan and do research.  And she most likely already knew how I came to be here.  The scene could probably be found in the reports of the city guard in Kirkwall or from the commander himself.  I also had to assume that she was aware of my...resistance to magic.  Three days was a long time for her to find all of my dirty secrets Varric never shared in _The Champion of Kirkwall._   I doubted I was anything but another potential threat in her eyes.  If not a threat, then a dangerous mystery she would claw open with her own nails.

"I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good," Cassandra followed.

"Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana concluded.

Cullen voiced his dissent.  "And I still disagree.  The templars could serve just as well."

"Oh?  As well as they served the Chantry? the mages?" I prompted, head tilting a fraction.  "If the Inquisition is going to be like your church by turning a blind eye to templars raping, torturing, and performing the Rite of Tranquility to mages because they laughed a little too loudly, I must rescind my assistance."

A somewhat stunned silence ensued.  The templars and I never had a good track record, but when the war broke out between them and the newly instated apostates, I saw who was more likely to be doing the running and who would be doing the chasing.  I knew not all of those who were in the Order were bad, but I wouldn't deny my bias.  Not after I had come across slaughtered women and children in Circle robes more than I could count.  Not after I had treated Tranquil who said they would not go back to feeling again because they wouldn't be able to bear what had been done to them.  Not after some had come after me because I had provided food and shelter to mages fleeing from the chaos and discord.

Cassandra broke the quiet.  "We need power, commander.  Enough magic poured into that mark--"

"Might destroy us all," he insisted, looking back and forth between her and me.  "Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so--"

"Pure speculation," Leliana said flatly.

 _"I_ was a templar"  Was.  So he had left.  "I know what they're capable of."

"And if things don't go their way?  Will they declare a Rite of Annulment to make up for their failures?" I said coldly.  I looked at all of them, but primarily Cullen.  "I will not be so foolish as to completely deny their assistance, should they give it.  But if you say that they are the better option to finding the solution of repairing that hole in the sky and try to force that upon me, I will take my leave."

The commander wasn't pleased with my words.  "That seems a tad hypocritical, seeing as they were the ones who defended your clinic from bandits and thugs when the Guard couldn't," he said tightly.  "When there was an abomination in your shelter, who were the ones who came and killed it?"

My hand landed hard on the table, which now had a map laid flat across its surface.  "Who were the ones who threatened to burn it down when they didn't want me helping mages?" I said, my voice the edge of a blade.  "Who were the ones that came and ripped my entire supply of lyrium from my stocks because the Chantry couldn't get enough for them?  Who were the ones that chased me out of Kirkwall because of my allegiance to Hawke?"

"You fueled the flames, Alaran, don't set yourself up as the victim," Cullen shot back, narrowing his eyes and gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.  "Near the end, you were setting up more chaos than order, helping the mages escape the city because they didn't want to go back to the Circle.  When there was a chance to restore and rebuild, you used your influence to keep it from happening."

*Museum tour guide voice*  And here on the left, you can see even more unresolved issues in Alaran Lavellan's life that is blowing up in her face.  Such pretty colors it's creating!

 _"Ir abelas,_ _Commander,"_ I icily hissed.  "I did not intend to hurt you so by refusing to conform back to a life that proved to be ineffective.  How quickly you must have forgotten what atrocities went on in the Gallows, with your brain addled by so much lyrium.  Yet for all your anger, I do not see you wearing that gleaming templar uniform.  I do not see your brothers and sisters here at your side, ready to follow.  So yes, I did prevent some "order" from restoring due to my beliefs.  But don't you  _dare_ imply that what did and what I continued to do was wrong.  Because here you are, not because the templars told you to, but because you saw that  _they were corrupted,_ just as I did."

"Enough!" Cassandra boomed.  She was probably already tiring of breaking me up from verbal fights with people who I usually considered friends.  "Continue your bickering at another time.  We have more important matters to discuss."

Josephine tucked a curly black lock behind her ear as she cleared her throat.  "Hm.  Yes."  She absently jotted something down on her clipboard with a quill before saying, "Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet.  The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition--and you, specifically, Lady Lavellan."

From my actions just seconds ago, I doubted I deserved the title of  _Lady._ "Of course they have," I sighed, feeling more exhausted than ever.  "And because of the world's reliance on Chantry opinion, I doubt we could simply ignore them."

"If only that were possible," Leliana said with surprising ease.  

"Some are calling you--a Dalish elf--the 'Herald of Andraste,'" Josephine expounded.  "That frightens the Chantry.  The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you."

Technically speaking, it  _was_ blasphemy, because the Mark wasn't bestowed upon me by the Bride of the Maker.  Far, far,  _far_ from it.  But I kept the opinion off my expression, however much I wanted it to show.

"Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt," Cassandra said heatedly.  

Josephine remained level-headed in the conversation.  "It limits our options.  Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question."

It was quickly becoming clear to me just how dim the outlook of this whole organization was.  

It also made me naturally want to rise to the challenge.  Sometimes I despised my whole leadership attitude.  And I had gotten away without it surfacing for so long, too.  Damnit. Damnit. 

I masked my interest easily.  "They're not concerned about the Breach?  The thing that is threatening to destroy their beloved world?" I asked.

"They do know it's a threat," Cullen said, though he refused to meet my eyes.  Guilt rang hollowly in my chest.  "They just don't think  _we_ can stop it."

"The Chantry is telling everyone you'll make it worse."

"There is something you can do, however," Leliana said with a hint of hopefulness.  "A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you.  She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I.  Her assistance could be invaluable."

I stared at her wide-eyed for a few seconds before sputtering, "M-Mother Giselle?  Of Jader?"

Leliana's eyes glinted.  "Do you know of her?"

My laugh was short and wavering.  "I...yeah, you could say that.  I've idolized her for years.  Her work with the poor and the sick is something to be revered and respected.  She gave up her progression the Chantry to continue doing work that has saved thousands of lives.  Before I became aware that Varric had been nabbed, I was in Redcliffe hoping to meet her and have the opportunity to work at her side for a while.  I found that she had since moved to the Crossroads village, and when I traveled through there it was nightfall and I had no time to stop.  If it was anybody else asking for me, I would be suspicious.  But, seeing as it is her who requests my presence, I will readily oblige.  Is she still at the village?"

"Yes, tending to the wounded," the spymaster replied.  

"Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you are there," Cullen added on, back to his reserved self.  

"We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you're better suited than anyone to recruit them," Josephine said optimistically.  

"In the meantime, let's think of other options.  I won't leave this all to the Herald," Cassandra concluded, bringing an end to the meeting.  Cullen was the first to walk out.  I could practically feel the coldness he now had towards me brush by, making my skin prickle.  Crap.

I breathed and slumped my shoulders for a brief moment.  "Yeah," I mumbled to the three other women still in the room, jerking a thumb behind me.  "I'm going to go try to salvage that.  Believe it or not, but I typically don't yell at everybody that I actually care a lot about. Inform me when we are to depart for the Hinterlands."

My feet carried me out and back into the Chantry.  Cullen was already ready to exit the giant doors.  I huffed and broke into a sprint, "Hey, wait up," I called.  He slowed, but didn't stop.  Not that I could blame him.  "Rutherford, wait--"

He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.  "Alaran, please, I don't..."

I slowed to a stop, putting myself between him and the doors.  "That was...that was  _not_ the way I had planned everything to go.  You gotta believe me.  Cullen, you stood up for me a-and took care of my dog and in turn I took a shit on your beliefs the first chance I had."  I rubbed my face rapidly before continuing.  "Can we start over, please?  You're one of the only friends I have here, besides Varric and Bubs.  I would rather not give that up."

My words seemed to release some tension in Cullen's body.  I assumed that he was feeling similarly as I was.  "Yes.  I acted...dishonorably, especially to a friend who I knows went through so m--"

"Let's go to the tavern," I cut off before he could make the both of us feel more guilty.  

"But you don't drink."

"True, but I'm really hoping they have some sort of hot apple cider or something there.  Also, food.  I'm still hungry."

"I have to get back to the soldiers, soon," Cullen said resignedly, but flashed a little smirk when he saw the crestfallen look on my face.  "But I suppose I could spare some time."

"For a friend?" I prompted, leaning up on the balls of my feet.

"For a friend."

-

In all reality, I should have stayed away from the tavern like it had the Blight.  Because not only were there gawkers in the place, but there was also a Varric Tethras.  He was as happy as a pig in shit whenever there were drinks to be poured and gossip to be shared.  

"Al!" he cheered when he saw Cullen and me enter.  Bubs, who was also allowed in the tavern (only in Ferelden) barked loudly and came to greet me.  I leaned down to jiggle his jowls, happy to see him again.  "Get on over here, pull up a seat!  You too, Curly!"

My eyebrows arched and I glanced at the Commander.  "Don't," he said softly, trying to remain serious.  "Don't."

"I didn't say anything," I replied submissively.  We both walked over to the table Varric had taken up.  The dwarf himself had a smug grin that couldn't be hidden by the rim of his mug.  I sighed as I took off my coat and hung it on the back of a chair before sitting in it.  "Alright, what have you been dying to say to me, Great Storyteller?"

"Now  _there's_ a nickname I could get used to," Varric laughed.  "And can't I just be happy to see the new Herald of Andraste?"

"Call me that again, see how many teeth you're missing after," I laughed back.

It was a fake laugh.

"Damn, Al, what happened to your sense of humor?"  While we talked, the barmaid--a nice-looking elf who hid her timidity well around me--put down two more mugs for Cullen and me, as well as a loaf of hot, fresh bread.  I pushed away the drink but didn't complain about it.  She didn't know, so I wasn't about to get heated.  Besides, more people in Thedas drank alcohol than they did water when they were in a public place.  And, unfortunately but unsurprisingly, nobody seemed to realize that it wasn't a good thing to partake of during pregnancy.  If I had a copper for every time I had to explain to women what was up with them and their babies in all the clinics I worked at, I would...I don't know, have more money than I already did, I guessed.  I was pretty financially secure, in all honesty.  Alaran Lavellan may not be able to do many things, such as: driving (not needed in Thedas), reuniting with friends after years without seeing them (apparently needed in Thedas), staying in one world, not getting lost while using a map, or drinking things I did not like.  But I  _was_ good at using my money wisely and earning it when need be.

"The Breach sucked it all up," I retorted, making a face as I tore off a hunk of bread and shoved it in my mouth.  "Sorry for the inconvenience."

He waved me off.  "Ah, it'll be back in a little while, I'm sure.  There's something else I'm more concerned about."

I swallowed, only to have more food hastily stuffed in.  "Obviously."

When Varric set his mug of ale down and leaned forward, I knew things weren't going to be pleasant for me.  "So, Al, I heard you and Chuckles did the no-pants dance back in Kirkwall."

While Cullen choked on his drink, I stopped chewing.  It was  _purely coincidental_ that I had opted to not swallow my food just before Varric spoke.  Instead I looked to my right, emulating my inner Jim Halpert and staring into an imaginary camera like I was on  _The Office._

"Easy, Curly, wouldn't want your cause of death be from prudish Fereldan beliefs," Varric chortled.   _Chortled._ It was despicable.  

I wanted to vehemently deny everything and just tell Varric the truth.  Holy hell, all I've ever  _wanted_ to do was tell him the truth.  About anything and everything.  And now that I was with him and Cullen again, I was reminded of how much those lies poisoned and sickened my system.  

But Solas and I had an agreement.  A horrible one that would eventually come back to bite us in the ass, but one that still needed to be kept.  So, with a melancholic swallow of the mush in my mouth and my head hanging low, I mumbled, "Yeah."

"Details, Al, details!"

"It was torrid and short-lived," I spoke dryly as I fed Bubs some bread.  

"Ah, Chuckles said something similar, but we both know that there's much,  _much_ more to it," Varric grinned smugly, draining his own mug and moving to work on mine.  "Don't think I'm gonna forget that heated, lover-enraged slap you gave him when he tried to innocently introduce himself."

"I hope the Seeker ate him," I grumbled under my breath.  "And no, Varric, I would much rather not want to talk about it."

"Come on, what'll it take for me to get ya to?"

I smirked, eyes lighting up.  Casually, I leaned back into my seat and folded my arms.  "How about a story for a story?"

Varric was in his territory.  Stories were his second skin, and he'd readily give one to get one.  "Name it."

"If I have to tell you about Solas and me, then you have to tell me about Bianca and you."

He faltered, stout shoulders deflating a good inch or two.  I propped my elbow up and rested my chin on a fist, already large elf eyes going even wider in expectancy.  "Well, Varric?  What about it?"

"Cullen, do something about your girlfriend," he groaned, but I wasn't about to be sidetracked.  I wagged a finger at Varric sternly.

"No no no, you don't get to change the topic and slink away like some grimy alley cat, Master Tethras.  Tell me about you and your love life, and I'll go ahead and share mine.  Come on, it'll be fun."

He raised his hands up in surrender.  "Alright, fine!"  An exasperated sigh.  "Maker," Varric mumbled in his chest, "I had almost forgotten the minor fact that you can be a pain in the ass."

I put a hand over my chest and batted my silver eyelashes.  "Oh, Varric, I don't think I've heard anything as sweet as that in a long time." 

-

The moment I stepped into my cabin Bubs growled.  My hand instinctively flew to the hilt of my dagger, body coiling in preparation to defend myself.  If it was Solas being freaking  _creepy_ again, I was going--

A shadow stirred in the corner, pulling back to reveal the Inquisition's spymaster.  My grip lessened, but did not entirely let go.  "How long have you been waiting to do that, huh?" I inquired lightly as I toed to the other side of the room.  Bubba followed, eyes trained on Leliana and hackles raised.  "Forty five minutes?  An hour?"

"Please," she scoffed.  "I have much more important things to do during that time than wait here."

"So you couldn't have just knocked?  That would have been a lot less...weird," I said, drawling out the last word.  "Also, you could have gotten torn to shreds by my Mabari over here.  He always has a hankering for human flesh."

Bubba licked his chops in affirmation.

Leliana's mouth softened slightly, eyes betraying some memory she was recalling.  I was betting that I knew what it was, or at least of the like.  "Deep down, Mabari are nothing but overgrown, smelly children waiting to be given a treat."  From the folds of the cloak she had donned for the cold Haven weather, Leliana pulled out a rather large bone.

That sealed the deal.  I let my hand drop at the same time Bubs lowered his hackles.  His stub of a tail began to eagerly wag, anxiously waiting to be given Leliana's treat.  She tossed it on the wooden floor, and we both watched in amusement as he pounced on it, growling happily as he began to gnaw on what I could only hope was an ox femur.

Now that my first line of defense had been rendered incapacitated, Leliana stepped forward to me.  I was unfazed by the subtle yet distinct motion, my response merely the slight tilt of my head.  "Questions, spymaster? Or did you just sneak in for a little chat?  I have a salve that would do  _wonders_ for your cuticles."

"Hm, perhaps you can give some to me later.  This Ferelden weather is absolutely dreadful on the skin," Leliana commented, idly examining her fingernails.  But when her eyes looked back up at me, they were the edge of a silverite blade.  "But yes, I do have questions for you."

I casually shrugged and moved to take a seat on the foot of my bed, crossing my legs and looking at her expectantly.  "Such as?"

"You have a history of dropping in the middle of unexpected places."

"Not a question, therefore I have no need to answer."

"I sent an agent to your clan a day ago.  Should there be anything...concerning, shall we say, that needs to be spoken?"

"Other than I hardly remember my time with them before I landed ass-up in Kirkwall?  No, not really."

"Why have you never attempted to go back?"

"Because what I do remember is abuse and hardship."

"But wasn't that what you faced in Kirkwall?  At least with your clan you would have been with your People."

"The abuse and hardship I faced in the city was my choice, and was with people I loved."

"So you do not love the people of your clan?"

"I couldn't love something I barely recollect.  If I did at one point, it's gone, now.  And to answer your next question, I had no desire to go back and find out because I don't want to.  I can do more good not isolating myself from the rest of the world."

"And why would you want to do good for people who would never do good for you?"

"For somebody Andrastian, it amuses me that you should ask that."

"You are not Andrastian?"

"Nope."

"And why not?  Do you believe in the elven gods?  Do you follow the Qun?"

"No and no.  I worship the dwarven ancestors.  Varric converted me."

"Varric is Andrastian."

"Ah!  I was  _testing_ you."

"Clever."

"That's what they call me.  So are we finished here?  Can I go to bed?"

"Not quite.  You still haven't answered me."

"Ah, of course.  I'm not religious, no, but religion doesn't necessarily define whether one is good or not.  And maybe you won't believe me when I say that I help because I want to, but it's true.  In helping I've found happiness, no matter my circumstance."

If Leliana was going to press further, I couldn't tell.  But eventually she gave a small, single nod and said, "You, Seeker Pentaghast, Varric, and Solas will depart for the Hinterlands tomorrow morning.  A servant will awaken you."

"Very well.  Thank you, Sister Leliana."  I stood to see her out.  "Oh, but before you go, I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"What agent are you sending to Clan Lavellan?  If it's one thing I remember about them, they're wary of outsiders."

She pondered whether or not I was going to get a response.  I awaited patiently, scanning her face for any hints.  Eventually I got it.  There was a twitch in the corner of her mouth, a flicker of her eyelids, a shift in her shoulders.  "Most of my network has codenames, but this...agent in particular...refuses to go by such.  But her capability to get information and do what needs to be done is more than enough reason for her to maintain the identity she wishes."

"You're dragging on, spymaster."

"Lynne.  Her name is Lynne."  Leliana drew her cloak around her shoulders and adjusted her hood.  "Goodnight, Alaran."

"Night," I mumbled.  As soon as the door shut I shuffled over to my bed and threw myself facedown on the mattress, emitting a low and unholy moan.

Why did it have to be her?   _Why?_ Five years, and I  _knew_ she was around, watching me and setting things up so I would get to certain places.  She was a factor I couldn't control, I couldn't even  _predict,_ and it drove me mad.  Hallah was a everywhere in my life, yet I hadn't seen her ever since the Chantry explosion.  And I bet she was just waiting around the corner, stifling a snicker as she waited to surprise me.  It was stupid.  She was stupid.  This was stupid.

For all its stupidity, though, it was an opportunity for me to help.  To help a lot.

But hey, my moping and wallowing in pity sent me off into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.  So I couldn't complain about that.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself that I would do a chapter of S&RE and then a chapter of Hold On A second, and switch back and forth. But apparently that didn't happen. I have no idea how, so don't blame me.
> 
> Are you guys staying lovely? I hope so. If not, you can always talk to me. I'm on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	25. The First Day of Inquisition School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading off!

"Are you ready to dive into the delightful wilderness called the Hinterlands?" I jovially questioned the moment Varric stepped out his cabin door.  The dwarf grumbled and reproachfully squinted his eyes at the bright, early morning sunrise.  It was quite beautiful, but I doubted he thought of it that way.

"No, not really."

"Aw come on, it'll be fun.  Especially with me here."  I stretched high up into the air, sucking in a deep breath and watching it roll past my lips in a billow of steam.  When my arms dropped, one rested on Varric's shoulders while the other gripped the strap of my pack.  "Oh, and by the way, this newly budding Inquisition doesn't have any ponies.  So you'll just have to deal with riding a horse.   _Or_ with Seeker Pentaghast."  I waggled my eyebrows.  "I bet you wouldn't mind her arms wrapped around you waist--with you being in front, of course."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Varric dryly chuckled, his arm easing under the greatsword and across my lower back, hand tugging on the end of my braid.  "You grew your hair out."

"Surprisingly, yes.  Turns out that's what hair does," I stated.

"I liked it when it was shorter.  It looked..."

"More like a memorable character's hair in some story?" I finished.

"Yeah, something like that."

I scoffed before going on.  "I liked it, too.  I don't know, though; longer hair makes me look more my age."

"And what age is that?  Nineteen?  Twenty-five?  Thirty-three?" Varric prompted teasingly.  I playfully shoved him away.

"Don't be such a prick, Tethras.  Or I might just have to call the A-Team on you to pop a cap in your ass."

"The A-Team?  Who's that?"

My laugh was to myself, but I didn't give an answer.  It took me a while where I had heard Varric's voice from, but when I did I was pretty pleased.  Then again, I was narcissistic enough to be pleased with myself often.  

Together we walked to the stables, where Cassandra and Solas were already waiting.  As we got on our mounts, I sadly looked back at Haven.  The one time I had left Bubs behind and everything blew up.  A part of me couldn't worry what else would go wrong without him by my side.  I had seen the Mabari rip out men's throats on multiple occasions; in this case, that might pose a problem.  From what I was told by Leliana, Bubba hadn't taken well to Solas when he saw the apostate by my side trying to stop his own magic from killing me.  Cullen was barely strong enough to hold him back.  Even after the commander convinced the Left and Right Hands that Bubs wasn't a threat to Solas' life, he continued to growl and send "death glares" the Dread Wolf's way.  And apparently I was the only one who thought it was better to bring a dog over an elvhen.  Joke's on me, right?

Wrong.

I would have chosen Bubs over Solas any day.

"Don't worry, Al," Varric assured when he saw my expression.  "Curly's gonna take good care of your rank-smelling dog."

I sighed, steam glistening in the sunlight and making me believe I was a dragon.  "I know he will.  But I haven't spent more than a day without him in half a decade.  Who's gonna keep me warm at night in this cold Ferelden weather?"

"The Seeker?"

We both looked at Cassandra, who was pointedly trying to ignore our conversation.  "Cassie," I sighed longingly, "will you keep me warm?"

"No.  And do  _not_ call me Cassie."  She huffed, her visible breath another sign to her irritation.  I raised an eyebrow as I gazed at her sidelong, seeing a question hiding behind her lips.  

"You know you can ask me anything.  I'm an open book, Cassie-- _Cassandra.  Ir abelas,_ I'll try my hardest not to call you that."  Lie.  And also lie.  If I really was a book, lies and half-truths would pour from my pages, and people would have to take hours sifting through them to get to the truth. 

"Careful, Al," Varric said, leaning to the side of his saddle to speak conspiratorially to me.  "Comparing yourself to a book may get a sword driven through you, if the Seeker doesn't like what you have to say."

"Quiet, dwarf," Cassandra growled before looking to me.  "I have to wonder, Herald, if you know the whereabouts of the Champion.  Unlike...others."

I looked back and forth between the two.  Then I laughed, the sound ringing in the cold morning sunrise.  Cassandra scowled at my reaction, but still waited for an answer.   _"That's_ why you dwarfnapped Varric!  You wanted to know where Hawke was!  Why?"  I rolled my head the Seeker's way, a sappy smile nearly turning my lips into a U shape.  "Oh, don't tell me that you wanted him to lead the Inquisition!   _Hawke?_ Garrett Hawke?  Varric, did you tell her that he would have put a thumb up his butt rather than do anything that involved leading an organization?  Freak, he could hardly even keep our little group together, much less any of this."

Varric was poorly stifling his laughter while Cassandra's face turned an angry shade of red.  He cast his arms to the side and shrugged.  "I tried, but she wouldn't listen."

"So you do consider yourself part of the Champion's... _group,"_ Cassandra said heatedly.  "But in the book Varric portrays you as a minor character."

"I see you've gotten that much from our little spat on the mountain," I responded as I reached in a saddle bag and fished out some dried apples. Loved me some preserved fruits.  "Let's just put it this way: I'm a major character in my own story.  And no, I wasn't exactly a minor character, but I didn't do a whole lot of the uncovering conspiracies and stuff like that.  Though I did stay indefinitely with Hawke, after..."  I gave a soft, weak laugh, trying to get rid of the memory that was still vivid in my mind.  "But no.  I don't know where he is.  Believe me, I wish I did.  I miss him.  I miss all of them."

"You stayed with the Champion?  Why?  I had always assumed you stayed at the alienage, with Merrill."

"Maybe I'll tell you, one day," I said, evading with a smirk and an ease in my posture.  "Perhaps when you let me call you Cassie?"

"Al, I don't think she'll ever just  _let_ you call her Cassie," Varric informed.

"Correction, Seeker: perhaps when you let me call you Cassie  _without_ wanting to punch me in the throat."

Her laugh was sudden, and could have been considered a bark had it not been so light and bouncing.  Oh, I  _really_ liked her, now.  "Perhaps," she only said, and let the conversation go.  At least for the time being.  They would know, eventually.

_Just like all of the pretty little secrets you have festering in your soul._

My grip on the reins tightened a fraction.  The situation I was in, the situation I would  _remain_ in...secrets weren't a thing that stayed hidden.  My time was ticking away.  Tick, tick, tick.

Damnit.  I should have just run away with Dorian all those years ago.  

Oh!  Dorian!  When was I going to meet him?

-

"Harding, huh?" Varric prompted as soon as Leliana's scout was finished introducing herself and reporting to me. "Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?"

My expression turned flat and I looked back to him.  "No," I spoke softly, trying my absolute best not to grin.  "Don't you dare."

Varric only winked at me as he got a response.  "I can't say I have.  Why?"

"You'd be Harding in..."  His laughter impeded in finishing his sentence.  "No, never mind."

Cassandra made an appropriate disgusted noise.  I poorly concealed my grin with a hand and whispered, "Hightown."

Tethras lost it.  Scout Harding shifted her hazel eyes back and forth between us, trying to decide if I was actually the so-called Herald of Andraste or just a neurotic elf.  To calm her suspicions, I let my smile slip behind a smooth veneer, loosely crossing my arms and tilting my head.  I asked her questions about the Hinterlands, becoming aware of the rather dire situation in the Crossroads.  With a jerk of my head towards the area below, my three companions and I hurried into action.  I couldn't help but notice how beautiful the day was, though.

It was ironic how I usually killed the most people on days like this.

The Seeker and I immediately moved to the front lines, rallying the Inquisition soldiers already in the heat of battle to regroup.  I felt Solas try to cast a barrier on us, only to have my own slick off almost immediately.  It was a minor inconvenience, but I could take care of myself.  Move fast enough, swing strong enough, attack hard enough, and having heavier armor only becomes a nuisance.  That was the problem with the renegade templars we were fighting; they thought heavy armor equaled more protection.  Not necessarily true, though.  At least from what Fenris taught me and my own experience.  Wearing as much armor as the templars did required a lot of stamina, and when it came to battling mages, the skirmishes were as short and swift as they could make it.  The armor withstood a stonefist and a blast of ice long enough for the opposing mage to be skewered.  But facing opposition with similar weapons and fighting expertise, that made it more difficult to them.  They didn't have a leader, either.  Or at least not one smart or confident enough to successfully take charge.  It made them attack like frantic ants without a queen.  That only resulted in my blade swinging through the weak parts of their protection and sinking into their fragile human bodies. 

When the wave of mages beat down on us from the other side of the village, many of our soldiers were ill-equipped to fight back.  Cassandra barked orders for them to fall back behind the two of us.  My lips twisted into a snarl at the sight of our new opponents.  "Herald, you need to--" Cassandra began to command me, but I stopped listening.  I brandished my greatsword and took up a defensive stance, waiting to see what the attack would be.  The mage I had locked eyes with didn't look scared; she seemed to be relishing in the chaos, thriving in the despondency.  There would always be people like her, no matter what side they were on.

Too bad I wasn't on their side.

Everybody dove out of the way as a literal ball of fire shot at me.  I decided not to give them more reason to call me Andraste's Chosen and ducked under it, feeling the faint heat graze the top of my head.  Then my legs propelled me forward, charging at the mage.  I was expecting her to Fade-step away from me the moment I raised my sword, so instead of moving my balance into my weapon I transferred it back to the balls of my feet, waiting to feel the slight  _tug_ in the Veil as she moved to a new spot.  The second the mage did I sprang, bounding two, three steps before cleaving into her side.  The unmistakable  _crunch_ of bone lasted merely a moment before hot blood sprayed into the air as my sword swept completely through her side.  There was fear in the woman's eyes.  Fear and pain.  But it was either her or me.  No matter how much I killed, though, I would always feel a tightness in my stomach that tried warning me that  _this was all wrong._

"Alaran!  Watch out!" Solas' voice cried.  He tried casting yet another barrier on me, but to no avail.  He had given me enough warning, however, to lunge out of the way as an arrow hit the spot where my chest had once been.  Instead it clipped my arm, taking a hunk of flesh with it.  I cried out more in anger than pain.  Solas froze the nearby archer solid, and I moved to kick in his chest and send him crumbling in little chunks.  I gave the other elf a single, brief nod before moving back into action.  Though Solas and I were nowhere near friends, we were still allies.  Tenuous, temporary ones, but allies still.

The skirmish was over in less than five minutes. I removed my sword from the chest of another mage, stepping on their soft stomach to keep them anchored while I pulled back. I surveyed the area as I did so, seeing how much loss the Inquisition had taken and if it could adequately be called a victory.  Blood seemed to stain the ground that wasn't charred or frozen over.  It also soaked the sleeve of my coat and rolled down the length of my arm.

I sucked in a breath as I assessed my wound.  It wasn't deep, but stung smartly and needed some bandages.  If I took a potion now it wouldn't scar.  With a slight grimace, I fished into the insides of my jacket and grabbed one.  Lifting it up to my mouth, I bit down on the cork of a healing potion and yanked back.  My sword drove into the ground--it was too bloody to sheathe--and I downed the potion.  I had become accustomed to the taste of the liquid so much that I immediately didn't want to throw it up, but there was still a turtle-frown-with-tongue-sticking-out residual face.  

"Al, what happened to my jacket?" Varric complained as he walked up to me, gesturing to the bloody patch on my arm.  I scrunched my eyebrows at him, bemused.

"What?  Your jacket?  No, no, I think you're mistaken.  This, in fact, is  _my_ jacket that  _you_ gave to me.  Remember that day, Varric?  Where you--"

"Yeah, yeah, don't need to go on about it," he grumbled, not wanting to relive that moment.  I smirked and tore my eyes away to focus on the two Inquisition soldiers approaching us.  Approaching me.  We exchanged the greeting that served as a reminder of loyalty by crossing our right arms over our breasts.  While my back remained straight, theirs bowed a little.  

"Take me to Mother Giselle, please," I said to them, then looked to Varric.  "Make sure nobody snatches my sword.  Also, would you be a dear and clean it?"

"Don't push your luck, Herald."

I chuckled and walked away with the soldiers.  We went up a flight of wooden stairs and rounded the corner of one of the buildings, where most of the injured had been taken to.  The soldier on my left gestured to the Chantry mother attending to another wounded Inquisition member.  I nodded to them and strode to the woman.  My little nerdy heart was pounding faster than usual as I was soon to face a lady I looked up to.  

She was calming the soldier when I came within earshot.  "...There are mages here who can heal your wounds.  Lie still."

"Don't..." the soldier started sharply, then swallowed and remembered his respect, "let them touch me, Mother.  Their magic..."

"Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade," she responded in a soothing Orlesian accent.

So Mother Giselle not only  _helped_ like an Andrastian should, but had an  _unbiased_ outlook on the use of magic?  I about broke into a grin right then and there.

"But..." 

"Hush, dear boy.  Allow them to ease your suffering."  

When she stood I called, "Mother Giselle?"

She turned, crinkles around her eyes and lips appearing when she saw me.  "I am.  And you must be the one they're calling the Herald of Andraste."

"Yes, though I suspect I am the only one attempting to quell it," I said with enough twinkle in my eye to show her that I didn't hold it against anybody.  "It's an honor to meet you.  Before..."  I looked to the distant hole in the sky for a moment.  "If that hadn't happened, I would be here, with you.  All I wanted to do was help refugees."  The approval in Mother Giselle's eyes made me want to melt in a puddle of goo.  But I remained solid and added humbly, "My name is Alaran Lavellan, by the way.  I heard you wanted to chat?"

-

"Oh, you have  _got_ to be kidding me," I groaned as we came to the rift on the farm.  The sun had just dipped below the rocky horizon, casting a golden aura to the sky.  A few minutes later and we would have no light to see in.  Or,  _they_ would have no light to see in.  I could fight in hours well into the night.  The others, not so much.

"You've closed two already today, Al," Varric said as I sucked in a breath, preparing to engage.  "You sure you can handle this one?  It looks...bigger than the others."

"That means only bigger ones will come out of it," I replied.  "And my hand will kill me if we wait to take care of it in the morning, with how close we're camped to it."  My eyes narrowed a fraction.  "Why?  Are you too worn and weary to go on?  I could send word to Harding to send an Inquisition soldier that would step in for you.  All they'd have to do is stand back and let the heavy hitters do all the work."  I nudged Cassandra with my shoulder when I said the last sentence, receiving a begrudging smile.

"And not give you the cover you desperately need?  You're not gonna get killed that easily, despite how much you try."

As we trudged down to the rift, I pointed to a rock and said to Varric, "Take position over there; if you're in the water with the rest of us you'll probably drown.  Cassandra probably wants that--not so you die, but so she could resuscitate you by pressing her lips to yours--"

Cassandra shoved my shoulder, sending me stumbling further down the hill as I laughed.  That laughter soon faded as I felt the already too-familiar pain erupting in my palm.  But I waded into the water anyways, the icy cold immediately taking my breath away.  "Who's laughing, now?" Varric shouted as he perched up on his rock, dry and warm.

Yeah.  I should have waited until tomorrow.

Fighting was hard enough.  Fighting demons thigh-deep in fast-moving water?  With what looked to be greater  _d_ _espair_ and _terror_ demons, no less?  

It sucked nuts.

A terror demon's portal opened right beneath my feet, the current of the small river making its unnatural green color ripple and move.  In a desperate act, I raised my sword high and positioned it downward.  As soon as the demon emerged, it was forced into the tip of my blade, screaming in its dizzying shriek.  Unfortunately, when it fully came through I found myself suddenly seven feet in the air, legs wrapped around a spindly demon back and clinging on to dear life.  I was truly lucky I hadn't been seated on one of its wicked sharp spines.  My sword maintained my position so I wouldn't be thrown, but the demon started thrashing and bucking, spraying water everywhere.  I snarled and forced my sword upwards, cutting through its head from the bottom up.  The creature toppled forward and into the water, submerging not only itself but me as well.  I was stupid enough to be breathing in as we hit the water, and felt the rush of it suck up my nostrils and into my nose and lungs.  The temperature was so frigid that my body locked for a few terrifying moments.  As the demon dissolved and my sword came loose, I pushed myself up and broke through the surface, coughing and gasping.  A second later somebody had reached under the crook of my arm and hauled me up.

"Close the rift," Solas commanded loud enough for me to hear.  "It is a vortex to even the strongest spirits in the Fade.  Only greater ones will come through if we don't shut it."  His arm still hadn't loosened.

And for some odd reason I let it stay.

With teeth chattering I raised my left hand to the crackling, crystalline rift and routed a connection.  Oh my gosh, I seriously did not just use that similarity.  Whatever.  I was keeping it.

My vision blurred and my lungs faltered, leaving me feeling like I was breathing through a straw.  As soon as it sealed and my hand snapped back I doubled over, hacking until my already burning throat was especially raw.  "G-g-get me out of this w-w-w-water," I sputtered.  Solas let me lean my soaking self onto him as we waded to the bank.  The light had turned indigo, by now, and the sky was multiple layers of gradients.  It was a beautiful view to look upon before one died.

And I was dying.

"I'm dying," I stated as I threw myself down on the grass, shivering uncontrollably.  

"The campsite is only beyond the hill," Cassandra stated with a gesture.  

"She wants somebody to carry her like the baby she is..." Varric snorted.  I gazed up at the darkening sky, preparing my last words.

"...just leave and she'll eventually get up--"

I interrupted him in a bursting, dramatic voice, exaggerating the edge of pain I felt as I spoke.

 _"How wonderful is Death,_  
_Death, and his brother Sleep!_  
_One, pale as yonder waning moon_  
_With lips of lurid blue;_  
_The other, rosy as the morn_  
_When throned on ocean’s wave_  
_It blushes o’er the world;_  
_Yet both so passing wonderful."_

Three sets of eyes stared down at me as I finished; about halfway through the short poem my flairs slipped, leaving my voice soft and trembling from the cold.  I had done a research paper on Percy Bysshe Shelley my junior year of high school.  And with my brain, I remembered all of his poems I poured over.  Heck, I could even recall the exact percentage I got on it, the day that it was handed back to me, and the soreness in my kneecap from when I had dislocated it after falling off my horse.  There was a speech and debate meeting at lunch, and crap, I had forgotten the cookies in the trunk of my car.  Maybe I'd just have one of the freshmen get it for me.  

I blinked, coming back to the present.   _"Where did you go?"_ Solas asked me in elven, head tilted and eyes studying.  I took Cassandra's hand and let her lift me back to my semi-wobbly feet.  

 _"High school,"_ I replied, though in elven the words didn't automatically translate.   _"My memory sometimes gets the best of me.  But that tends to happen when I can remember pretty much everything."_

"And now they're talking about their elfy poem," Varric sighed noncommittally.  "Which was beautiful, by the way."

"Yeah, maybe you can make me a dwarfy craft," I said back.  When he gave me a sidelong, half-pissed look, I raised damp eyebrows.  "Don't like how that makes you feel?  Then don't say it to others.  The poem is beautiful, yes.  But it wasn't elven."

"Alright, I get your point.  I'll mind my stereotyping views from now on."

"Thank you," I said sweetly.  "Now can we get back and set up a campfire?  I fear hypothermia may be setting in."  

A short while later I was donned in different clothes and had a blanket wrapped firmly around me, hair loose and hanging over both my shoulders so it could dry out.  Master Dennet's farm (his wife, specifically) had offered us a bit of food to make a hot meal for the night.  That meant I got to slurp a steaming bowl of thick stew.  I made it myself, of course, because Cassandra could eat a hunk of raw beef and call it good, Varric couldn't cook worth shit, and Solas half that.  I didn't mind; cooking wasn't my foremost specialty, but it was enough to warm a belly and shock Fereldans when they ate something other than gray goop.

"Hawke always liked your cooking," Varric smiled as he clutched the bowl of his own, eyes brimming with a fond moment of the past.  "And Maker knows he needed to eat food other than cheese and bread."

I chuckled, recalling it well.  "You all liked my cooking, if I'm not mistaken."

Varric turned to Cassandra and Solas, leaning into his storyteller position.  "I shit you not, even when Al was starving in an alienage, she would somehow manage to scrape food together to feed us all whenever we stopped by.  And it was  _good,_ too.  Though," he added, turning back to me, "I have to wonder if that meat was ever rat."

Stew nearly snorted through my nostrils.  I choked my mouthful down so I could bark a light laugh.  "No," I replied.  "No, I never stooped that low.  Though there were a few times I think some of the meat I bought was dog.  Lowtown's food supply was always pretty sketchy.  I never shopped at the market in Hightown until I moved in with Hawke.  It was an eye-opener."

"Speaking of old times, where's your lute?  I didn't put in the book that you could sing for nothing."

My shoulders shrugged up and down.  "It's in Kirkwall, with the Feddics.  I couldn't be lugging that around when people were trying to kill me at every corner.  Maybe I'll have it sent back when we return to Haven.  But I haven't sung in a while, so I don't know how well I'd fare."

"I must confess," Cassandra said hesitantly, "I am interested to see if your voice is as wonderful as Varric claimed it to be in his book."

"Ah, yes.  What was the description?"  I tilted my head up to the night sky, the image of a page being read in a candlelit room coming to mind.   _"'Birdie's voice carried through the air on soaring wings,_ _ascending and descending with each note,'"_ I recited loftily, smiling wryly.   _"'Any kind of emotion that could possibly  be described she captured in song.  It was history and pain, revolution and sunlight.  If wars were fought by song, Birdie would be the victor, through and through.'"_ I partook of more stew before saying, "Very eloquent.  A crock of shit, but still."

"I am inclined to disagree," Solas said suddenly as he sipped on some broth.  I glared at him and pointed a sharp finger.

"Watch it, or else I'll be  _inclined_ to have you show everybody the great dancer you are."

"Oh ho, the former flames are revealing dirty secrets," Varric drawled happily as Solas gave me a flat look.  "Can't wait to see what else is spilled."

"It'll be blood.  Yours, to be precise," I said with feigned pleasantness before draining my bowl of its contents.

"You seem to have an excellent memory, Herald," Cassandra put in before Varric and I could banter more.  I was almost sure she was sick of us together, by now.  Or maybe that was just her typical expression. 

I gave a nod, idly twisting damp strands of hair.  "I guess you could say that I do."  Neither she or Varric needed to know that I remembered...everything.  "I just keep my mind healthy."

"And how do you do that?"

My lips curved into a smirk.  "I dance naked in the moonlight, of course.  It does  _wonders_ for the brain."

The Seeker rolled her eyes, officially done for the night.  "You have first watch," she said to me as she stood.  "And thank you for the meal.  It was pleasant."

I held a thumbs up as she walked past to our pitched tent.  Over my shoulder I called, "Oh, and I can't wait to cuddle when I get done!"

I earned a disgusted noise.  "I'm gonna hit the sack, too," Varric groaned, knees popping as he rose to stand.  "'Night, Al.  I gotta get rest if we're going to be as lost tomorrow as we were today."

"That sounded very passive aggressive right there, Master Tethras," I said knowingly.  Varric didn't answer, and instead patted my head a couple of times before retreating to his tent.

Then it was just Solas and me.  

"How is your arm?" he asked coolly, motioning to it.  I looked down at the stitched up spot that had just been cut open earlier this morning.  It had already seemed like such a long time ago that I had forgotten all about the small injury. 

"Oh, it's fine.  Won't scar, so that's good."

"Why don't you wear heavier armor?  Or at least pauldrons and bracers?  It would certainly protect you more."

"And protect these bad babies?"  I flexed both arms, making an _ooh_ face as I did.  Solas rolled his eyes, but didn't respond until his questions were answered.  Eventually I dropped the limbs and collected Cassandra's and Varric's bowls.  I had boiled a small pot of hot water, which should have been cool enough by now to dip my hands in.  

I sat down in front of the pot, gripping both sides with my thighs so I could feel some of the warmth.  One hand dipped a bowl in while the other reached into a pack and pulled out a wrapped bar of soap.  It had vandal aria infused in it; I had found that the plant had cleansing properties in it, which was more than a lot of soaps had.  

It also smelled nice.

Solas moved to hand his bowl to me.  I took it, then pushed up my sleeves to begin washing.  "I don't wear armor," I explained with infinite patience, "because it hinders my speed."

"Warriors do not need speed when they have brute force."  Solas was towering awkwardly over me, so, with a reluctant sigh, I beckoned him to take a seat opposite of me.  He did, crossing his legs loosely and keeping his back straight.

"Why not both, though?  I want to toss around a giant sword, but I also want to be able to be quick on my feet."

"You could do that while still wearing armor."  

"Not without using up more stamina and decreasing my range of swinging.  Sure, it leaves me vulnerable in more areas, but I usually move quickly enough to block it.  Besides, have you seen Dalish armor?  It offers as much protection as what I'm wearing now, and its pretty light.  Anything else isn't exactly compatible to my fighting style."  I set aside the bowls to dry, and scrubbed my hands with the soap before letting them sit in the water.

Solas was quiet for several moments, leaving my ears to twitch at every sound I heard in the darkness beyond.  The night sky was utterly beautiful, but that's always what I thought about it.  Growing up in New York, there wasn't a lot of stars to be seen because of the light pollution.  But here...I would never be able to get enough of it.  The second moon, Satinalia, was hardly visible this time of the year, but I could make out a thin, distant sphere hanging in the sky.  It was almost completely overlooked by the much larger one.   _That_ one didn't have a name, much like the moon back on Earth.  It was just the moon.

"You should get to sleep," I said without casting my gaze back to Solas.  "Third watch is always the worst."

 _"Master Tethras' snoring creates a reluctance to do such,"_ he responded, switching to elven.

A soft laugh bubbled to my lips.   _This_ was what things should be like between us, not the faint animosity and a scattered attempt to bury all the time we had spent together.   _"Just give him a few kicks, and he usually rolls over,"_ I advised.  Hands were brought out of the water and shaken to wick away the wetness.  The Mark captured a glint of moonlight, creating a refracting glow on my palm.  Both of us caught the sight, which settled a heavy blanket to suffocate our progressing comfortableness.

I adjusted my scarf, subconsciously trying to cover the scar on my neck.  It was a habit I had picked up whenever things got uncomfortable.  I was furiously trying to kick it, but things didn't always go the way I wanted.  "How did you get that, if I may ask?" Solas questioned, sudden and soft.  It hadn't been on me in the Fade, so he had never seen it until we crossed paths in Haven again.

A hum resonated in my throat before I answered in Solas' first language.   _"It was nothing daring.  We were all at the Hanged Man, and I stepped out because I was getting claustrophobic.  Carver had also spilled ale on me, and I wanted to air out my tunic.  A couple of men Hawke, Fenris, and I had angered earlier attacked me.  One tried to slit my throat but didn't quite get the job done."_ My lips pulled downward into a small frown.   _"That was the first time I had ever killed anybody.  At least directly.  I would have watched the life flee from their eyes had I not been so concerned about my own doing the same."_ I switched back to Common.  "But that was then.  A lot has changed."

"It most certainly has."

We left the subtext be.  That was the only way we were ever going to get along.  

Or, more specifically, that was the only way we weren't going to kill each other.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I really wanted to emphasize Al's fighting techniques (a lot of which resemble Fenris' own). In "Wait, What?" I don't think I really went into detail about it.
> 
> I truly hope you guys are being and staying lovely.


	26. The Reality of Situations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something not-so-swell pops up in Al's life.

We were back in Haven four days later. I, of course, wanted to go straight to my cabin and take a six hour nap completely undisturbed. A perfectly normal wish, yes?

Not to Cassandra Pentaghast, oh no. The second I got off my horse she literally  _shoved_ my shoulder forward and gruffly pointed to the Chantry building beyond the walls, making some sort of grunt as she did so. I knew a civilized conversation wouldn't be had between us, so I  _loudly_ sighed, handed her my greatsword to take back to my cabin because _the Herald got what the Herald wanted,_  and began trudging up the path. A sharp, piercing whistle rang from my pursed lips when I technically entered Haven. Not a moment later I heard an exuberant bark, followed by disgruntled exclamations from people that were most likely getting shoved out of the way.

I laughed out loud when I witnessed a large Mabari skid on the icy path as he scrambled to run to me. When he finally regained his footing and charged full speed ahead, I was reminded why they were the fearsome wardogs every Fereldan citizen claimed them to be. Because of the sight, I was inclined to charge right back, bellowing at the top of my lungs.

Everybody within ten feet of Bubs and I cleared the area, choosing to preserve their lives. The Chantry sisters even hiked their robes up to scramble out of the way, showing their holy ankles to the impure world around them.

Now, I want the next scene to play out in slow motion. Imagine a slightly grimy elf spreading her arms wide, braided white hair whipping behind her, grinning as she cried for what could only be war. And on the opposing end of said elf, imagine a  _very_ grimy Mabari leaping into the air, teeth bared and tongue lolling out, thick gobs of saliva trailing behind the corners of his mouth, paws inclined to tear his enemies to shreds. 

In one glorious moment elf and dog collided, the former wrapping her arms around the latter, and the latter latching his maw onto the former's shoulder. It was all very dramatic and potentially violent.

Then the world fast forwarded into motion. Bubs growled happily in his throat as I laughed gleefully and spun his massive body around a few times before a heel slipped on the slick ground. I failed in attempting to get out from underneath Bubs before we hit the earth; he was, after all, around two hundred pounds. My head and back landed hard, the frozen, compacted dirt, making itself painfully aware of its presence. Between groaning and laughing, I was helpless to the slobbery kisses raining down on me. The sole defense I had was a little feeble sputter. I didn't dare open my mouth, not when there was a bacteria-filled tongue slathering itself over every inch of my face. I knew where Bubs' tongue had been. Most of the time, they weren't good places. No, scratch that.  _All_ of the time.

And so most of Haven watched as the Herald of Andraste was licked and mauled nearly to death by a hulking Mabari hound. It probably made plenty of Fereldans swoon from the greatness of it all. 

"Alright, alright, get off of me," I finally managed to grumble to Bubberston. I grabbed his collar and veered his thick neck and head away from mine. He took the hint and stood up, panting from all the sudden exertion. He stood  _on_ me. I wheezed and huffed and made all sorts of breathless noises, slowly dying.

"Oi! Off!" another voice commanded. Bubs perked his ears up in curiosity and confusion, looking around for the source. I was doing something similar. Who was telling my dog what to do?

A woman dressed in warm winter clothes with the brown, beige, and reddish colors of the Inquisition highlighting her uniform. "Sorry 'bout that," she apologized, firmly grabbing Bubba's collar and pulling him off of me. "I'll find out who his owner is and tell them that their dog is scaring elves." She held out her hand for me to take. I did and let her haul me up. "The name's Threnn. I'm the quartermaster. I don't think we've met, yet. Are you new? I'll take that as a yes. Follow me, we'll get you set up with a uniform and some cleaning supplies. Anybody calls you a knife-ear, you come to me. I..." She paused when she saw that Bubs was standing staunchly and loyally next to my side. Her eyes moved up to my bemused expression, then down to my gloved left hand. "Y-you're...? Oh."

"What would you do if somebody did call me a knife-ear?" I prompted as I absently scratched Bubba's fat head.

"Tell Ambassador Montilyet, probably," Threnn replied through her flustered state. "She's just as scary as Sister Leliana. Destroy your life with a smile and a compliment, that one will."

I considered the answer briefly before wholesomely agreeing. "Pretty much. Well, Quartermaster Threnn, it was nice meeting you." We shook hands. "If I find anything of value, I'll be sure to bring it to you're attention so we could see if it'll be of use. Oh, and if you  _do_ see this monster terrorizing anybody..." I patted the back of Bubs' neck, who was looking up at the woman with large, innocent eyes. "Just threaten him with a bath." 

"Will do, serah. Will do."

Though I had been slightly offended that I was mistaken for a servant, I kept my tact. It wasn't as if Quartermaster Threnn knew any better. That was the case with most normal people in Thedas, unfortunately. At least she wouldn't stand for the term "knife-ear" being flung around. That was more cultural sensitivity than most had.

I was half-tempted to turn back around and go to my cabin instead of facing the arguing crowd of mages and templars near the doors to the Chantry.  I had heard enough bickering between my three companions to last me another week or so. But I supposed that--

A gust of late winter wind scurried down my throat and stopped me in my tracks. I tried stifling the sudden cough, but that just made it worse. I rattled out a wheeze that burned my lungs and left an ache in my chest. Usually such a thing only lasted a few moments, but I was left nearly incapacitated with the persistent hacking. Bubs knew something was wrong and led me over to behind a cabin and out of sight. I used my other hand to cover my mouth to try and stem the fit. 

We stopped behind the cabins and before the snowy treeline. I bent down on one knee, the cold bleeding through thick cotton trousers and into my shin. Bubba let out a soft whine as I was left breathless and gasping. Pain had now blossomed in my entire torso. If I didn't try to stop soon, I would start vomiting. Best case scenario, my coughing would pass. Worst case, I would aspirate the bile and get it in my lungs. Neither option sounded great. 

Fortunately, I was able to rein it all in. After a few  _inhale and exhale_ exercises, I wearily leaned into Bubberston's side and let my eyelids close for just a little while. The motion allowed me to assess what had occurred, to remember something I thought I would never have to deal with again. 

It had been a week before graduation when the same kind of cough happened. I was walking up the stairs to the apartment when it just...hit me. I was left sitting in the stairwell, tears pouring down my face from the crippling exertion my body had just gone through. In my head I was chastising myself for not bothering to take the elevator just because mean Mrs. Gibbons would be in it with me and comment about my "hefty" state. Gosh, she was a bitch. When the minor case of self-loathing subsided, I got back up, brushed the dust off my butt, and continued onward. There were finals that I needed to study for and a valedictorian speech to prepare. And after that, intense chemotherapy and other treatments to preserve my decaying body for a couple more months. 

"Shit," I muttered, because that was all I could do. It looked like the Universe or whatever wanted to play catch-up. And here I had thought that being in this place, this world would...

Best not to dwell on it now. I still had, what, about six months? Less, if I was counting the time before I would be rendered completely incapable. Maybe shorter, without chemotherapy and other treatments being stuffed into me. We would have to see.

Refusing to be crushed by the realization that after so many years of living and  _being_ in Thedas my life was finally coming to an end, I stood up and brushed nonexistent rubble off. "It was just a little frog in my throat, right Bubs?" I questioned my dog in a small voice. He was silent on the matter, but moved so that his head was once more underneath my hand. Together we went back out into the steady bustle of Haven in the afternoon. The arguing mob seemed to have dispersed, now, most likely due to the Inquisition's commander standing by the doors and looking five kinds of pissed off. As I drew closer, I noticed that there was also a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. In this kind of weather, that meant something was up.

"So you've returned," Cullen said with a slight smile as he watched me approach. "Your Mabari has certainly missed your presence." 

"Yeah, well, I've missed his, too," I smirked, trying to ignore the taste of a raw throat in the back of my mouth. When the smirk faded, I met the commander's amber colored eyes and asked softly, "How are you feeling, Cullen?"

"Tired, mostly. I think Josephine is trying to kill me by having my body buried under a mountain of paperwork. I'm sure you'll have to face a similar fate here soon, as well." He spoke with a begrudging lightheartedness in his voice. It was something I didn't want to extinguish by bringing up lyrium and the lack of it coursing through his body. 

Neither did I want to think about dying.

"Hm. Well, if that's the case then I don't think I want to go inside the Chantry," I mused, twirling the white strands of hair at the end of my braid. Then I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Cassandra stomping up the stairs, trapping me in. "Crap. Never mind."

"If it's any consolation, I must join you in the endeavor," Cullen responded dryly. I offered my elbow out to him, and he promptly linked his arm through it. To him it was a gesture of our friendship. It was to me as well, but also partially because I didn't want to put all my weight into my faintly trembling legs. There was a meeting that needed to be seen through, and important information that had to be discussed. I had to reserve as much strength as I could.

It looked like that was how my life was going to be from here on out.

And the worst thing? Probably that deep down, I still wanted to believe that the cough was just a cough, the fatigue was just a lack of a good night's rest, and the weakness was due to not eating since dinner last night.

-

"Stop squinting, would you? It's giving me a headache," Varric said as we waited by the port to take a ship to Val Royeaux. Though I wasn't one to eagerly cross the Waking Sea, I realized the urgency on our heels. It was enough to make me ignore Master Tethras' vehement protests. Had I been younger and more impressionable like I was when I first arrived, I would have followed his every wish. Now, though...

Well, let's just say that denying acknowledgement of Varric's whines didn't settle well with him. Because he made sure we suffered.

Like right now.

"Oh my crap, Varric, will you just shut up?" I sighed, eyes still continuing to scan the rolling horizon for the ship that would take us to the perfumed armpit of Orlais. There was a storm rumbling in the distance, and I didn't want to be tossed about the cabin when it hit. Already a cold wind was whipping the tail of my coat and trying to tug hair free from its braid. I swore to myself that my vision was slightly blurry when it came to looking at things more than five feet away because of the dismal weather. 

"He likes the sound of his voice too much to do that," Cassandra commented dryly as she stood beside me, firmly clutching the charcoal cloak she wore against her breast.

I wanted a cloak. "Too true, Cassandra, too true," I smirked. We could talk however we wanted because we were the only ones at the small port waiting for transport. It seemed that other people had better common sense when it came to riding a ship on tumultuous, early springtime waves.

"I feel like I'm always being personally attacked in this group," Varric cried, stiffly crossing his arms over his own exposed chest. I had told him to bundle up, but oh no,  _the weather in Val Royeaux is too spectacular to have jackets covering this Maker-given body, Al._

"Such an occurrence does not happen without due cause," Solas quipped casually, seemingly unaffected by the weather conditions. Ugh. Magic.

"You too, Chuckles, you too? I think Al's damn dog is the only one on my side." He was affronted when Bubs only looked at him indifferently. 

"There, I see the ship," I called out as a blurred, triangular shape appeared over the waves, bobbing up and down with each movement of the sea. Varric groaned. I figured he had hoped that the ship sunk or something so we would have to turn around and walk. 

As the boat drew near, I reached inside the pack at my feet and rummaged around until I grasped the tonics kit I was looking for. Pulling it out, I unfolded the leather that kept everything bound and took out a dark, sludgy vial. "Here," I said, handing it to Varric. His brows drew together as he looked at what I offered.

"That looks like nug diarrhea."

"And tastes like it, too. But it'll keep you from getting seasick. Or at least stem the severity of it. Plus it'll knock you out," I explained. Dubiously, Varric took the vial from me. "Dilute it with some water before you ingest, otherwise it'll stick to your throat. And from what I've heard, it takes days to get the taste out."  _Just like the taste of rust after coughing up crimson._

With only minor murmuring, the dwarf popped off the cork, took out his water skin, and poured a portion in the vial. He pressed his thumb down over the top and gave it a few shakes. And, after a grimace, tossed it back and quickly swallowed.

 _"Blegh,"_ Varric sputtered. "That makes me want to puke more than being on a boat."

"Well if you manage to keep it down know you're through the worst part," I said, tying my pack back up and slinging it over my shoulder. 

"I think you poisoned me," he groaned, doubling over and trying to keep from spilling the roiling contents of his stomach. Bubba took it upon himself by licking Varric's face to make him feel better. I also rubbed his back, knowing full well how awful dealing with nausea could be. 

"There, there," I consoled. "It'll be over in a minute."

"Then we should cherish the minute of silence given to us," Cassandra said. I bit an oncoming grin back and lifted my gaze to the ship once more. Thunder boomed in the distance and the smell of frigid rain drifted on the air. Great. We wouldn't beat the storm. 

-

I lay on the bottom bunk in Cassandra's and my cabin, casually flipping through a book and humming to try and block out some of Varric's snoring I could hear from the other side of the thin wooden wall. "What are you reading?" the Seeker asked from her position above me. It was miraculous that she hadn't rolled out of the bunk, yet, with how the ship was pitching and dipping. 

"What?--oh, nothing much. Just a thing about the early Alamarri tribes and why the Avvar and Chasind are the only two left that still emulate their ancestors. There's also a lot of neat information about the Avvar. I've only come across their tribes a couple of times, but those that I have are very interesting."

"Truly?"

I placed my book against my chest and looked up at the mattress above me. "Oh, definitely. They're  _huge,_ for one--the women are, like, on average six feet tall. The men are even bigger. And they go around topless, basically, for both sexes, but they cover themselves with this wicked kind of heavy paint over their skin that cracks and leaves them looking extra dangerous. They're xenophobes, but only to a point. As long as you show that you have no ill will towards them and invoke the Lady of the Sky's blessing, they'll be amicable. I've always had the best talks with their augurs." Yes, since they had immediately taken interest in my  _foreign origins._ Who knew that spirits could be such snitches?

Cassandra had been hooked. I heard her shift to her side so she could more clearly talk to me. "Their augurs?"

"Yeah, they're the hold's, er,  _spiritual advisers._ Quite literally. They all but share homes with spirits."

"No!" She then rolled over and popped her head over the bunk. It caused the braid she had wrapped around her crown to come loose and reveal the length its length. "What about abominations? The dangers that comes with magic!"

"They know how to deal with spirits who are unwilling to leave a mage's body without hurting them. The augurs also work with the same spirits to keep away bad ones. Concerning training other mages, who else better is there than the spirits themselves? They are, in simplest terms, comprised of the very Fade itself. Then, when the mage is ready to go off on their own without the spirit's aid, they perform a ritual to release that spirit. Even if things go wrong, it's the augur's job to make sure that they pose no threat to themselves or the hold." I grinned, so to hide it I covered half of my face with the book and continued on in a muffled voice, "It's great, isn't it? Magic not controlled by the Chantry and guarded by the The Order is actually  _safer_ than with them!" The book then slid down. "Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Sorry. I just excited about things like these."

"You are...very intelligent," Cassandra admitted. I fanned my face.

"Oh Seeker my Seeker, stop it. You're making me blush. But yeah, I am. I'm super smart. Like,  _crazy_ smart." My eyes comically widened at the word 'crazy' for good effect. Cassandra snorted, but there was a laugh to it. I scooted over until I was at the edge of the wall and patted the new, empty space on the mattress. "Come, join me for the next couple of hours of travel. Together we can learn about how the Alamarri branched off to create what we now know as Ferelden and Orlais."

"I, er...okay."

Her head disappeared, replaced by long legs dangling down. "And watch out for Bubs--" An irritated whine. "Ope. Never mind."

As soon as Cassandra was scrunched up beside me, I held the book back up and cleared my throat.  _"Much like the rest of Ferelden, the Avvar are staunch in..."_

-

 _"'Ze Maker would zend no elf in ouer hhhour of need!'"_ I mimicked in the worst ~~French~~  Orlesian accent I could manage. "I think a punch in the back of the head was well-deserved."

Varric snickered beside me. "Ooh, ooh! What about, 'If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine!'" He impersonated Lord Seeker Lucius in a mocking tone, throwing around lewd gestures.

"Ugh, what a bunch of dillholes," I muttered.

"You two are not taking this situation seriously," Cassandra chastised heatedly. I glanced up at her. 

"Nor should we. At least we shouldn't take the  _people_ in this circumstance seriously," I explained, recalling the vile, twisted  _wrongness_  Lord Seeker Lucius impressed on the Veil. I didn't have the heart to tell her that he may or may not be a high-ranking demon parading around in a nasty man's form. "Surely you can see how ridiculous both that dusty old sister and Lord Seeker Bad Breath were being. Oh, and who the heck invited Grand Enchanter Fiona to the party? With her sad-looking hair and all. The only good part of this day was that merchant we spoke to. At least now Haven won't starve." I gave my head a shake. "Whatever. I'm going to go ride the gondolas. Either you can come with me or stay behind."

"Don't you think that's a bit childish?" the Seeker questioned as I started to walk away. "It's--"

_Thunk._

I stopped short to peer at the arrow that had just landed a few feet away. "Huh," I grunted, and moved down to pick it up.

"Come, Herald, there may be somebody who wants to do you harm," Cassandra said urgently, grabbing my arm and planning to haul me away. 

"I don't think somebody would want to kill me with a note attached to their arrow," I said, detaching the piece of paper and opening it. "Maker, their handwriting is worse than mine. Wait a minute, hold the raven...I recognize the penmanship. Whoa."

"What?"

"I think this is a Red Jenny note." I held it out to Bubs to scan over, who gave an affirmative  _boof._

"Red Jennies aren't real, Al," Varric snorted. "They're just an urban legend made up by the poorer classes."

"Too bad, because you definitely have some in your network. They keep an eye on you. Fortunately, you're a good guy so they leave you alone." I cleared up some of the confusion in the air and muttered, "I used to pass information along to them." I scanned the letter one last time. "Never met one in real life, but I can't say I haven't been part of anything they stir up for the little people. Also, I don't know of anybody else who uses the word 'baddie.'"

"What else were you part of?" the rogue prompted sarcastically as we started to walk again to find the "red things." "The Merchant's Guild? Legion of the Dead? That one Andrastian cult back in the Hinterlands?"

"Could you, just, not talk for a minute? I'm kinda busy here."

There was a sharp jab between my ribs and hipbone. I gasped and lurched away, glaring at Varric. There was a smug grin on his stupid face. "What were you saying, Al? Something important, I'm sure."

"I'm going to feed you to Cassandra for tickling me in such a heinous way, Messere Tethras. And we'll go riding on the gondolas without you."

"We are  _not_ riding on the--"

"Ooh, who's coming our way? Some fancy knob? And I bet he has an  _invitation!"_

-

It was out of pure reflex that I dodged the two wimpy fireballs blasted at me. Before I even had a comeback to relate the weak magic to one's ability to "get it up," the tiny Orlesian nobleman (most male royalty were only a couple inches taller than I was. I blame it on the incest) immediately began to speak. 

"Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!" 

"If you mean weakened as in, 'we had to skip out on shopping in Val Royeaux because of your lame little threats,' then yes, you have weakened us  _greatly,"_ I answered. "By the way...who are you, even?"

"You don't fool me! I'm too important for this to be an accident!" he rambled on, placing flimsy, pompous fists on narrow hips. He even jutted a fancy, high-heeled shoe to one side like a ballerina. "My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!"

"Are you even old enough to be talking to me? Should we get one of your parents?"

"How  _dare_ you--"

The  _whiz_ of an arrow followed by a short cry before death interrupted the little smidge. We all looked over to see a guard fall face-first on the ground, revealing an even smidgier elf with asymmetrical blonde hair and a horrendously amazing outfit. "Just say 'What!'" she dared, drawing back the string of her bow and pointing it at the noble.

"Don't do it, dude," I mumbled, but didn't make an effort to say it loudly.

"What is the-- _blurghe!"_

"Eugh!" the elf exclaimed as she walked over to meet us. "Squishy one, but you heard me, right? 'Just say what.' Rich tits always try for more than they deserve." She crouched down to yank her arrow protruding out of the man's eyeball. "Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!" After pulling it out with a slight  _splurch,_ she stood back up. "So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're..." Her eyes immediately followed the  _vallaslin_ lining my face. "Oh, you're--" she began disdainfully. 

"The One from Ostwick. Or Amaranthine. Or Jader. Take your pick," I interrupted smoothly. It took the elf a few moments to realize what I was getting at, but when she did her eyes and mouth widened to three times their size.

"Oh! Oh, that's fockin grand, yeah? So--wait. If you've been runnin' around with the Red Jennies, then why're you Dalish? Shit, never mind, don't answer that. It's all good though, innit? The important this is: you glow? You're the Herald thingy?"

"Well, I've seen lots of other people glow," I answered. "If you mean that I glow specifically on my hand? Then yes. But would you mind telling me what's going on, exactly?"

"No idea," she shrugged, "I don't know this idiot from manners. My--our people just said the Inquisition should look at him."

"Huh. Well that's nice of them, isn't it?"

"Sure is," she grinned. "Name's Sera." She gestured to a box of crates. "This is cover. Get round it. For the reinforcements. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed." Her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline in delight. "They've got no breeches."

I laughed out loud when I saw the mercenaries come down with their...swords...fully out for the world to see. The battle was short and quick; instead of bothering to kill them and have a mess cleaned up, Sera and my companions just gave them a few bonks on the head to make them out-of-it and tied them all up. I always liked results like these. And it would be  _hilarious_ to see the look on the person's face who found seven men gagged, bound, and with no pants on stuffed in a nearby utilities closet.

"Friends really came through with that tip," Sera breathed as she slung her bow over her back. "No breeches!" A superb cackle followed before she turned to me. "So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one."

"Coming from you? I'll take that as a compliment." I studied her face for a moment before asking bluntly, "Wanna join the Inquisition?"

"Uh,  _yes!_ Ya know, it'll be nice bein' with someone who's not shovin' their cods around with all the other rich tits," Sera grinned. "Get in good before you're too big to like. That'll keep your breeches where they should be. Plus extra breeches, because I have all these...you have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something."

"I'm sure it will be. Welcome to the Inquisition, Sera. Bubs! Give our newest member the introductory slobber kisses!"

"What--shit! Ack, get off me ya bag of stink!"

-

I nearly crumbled as soon as I saw Wisdom waiting for me. Three weeks, several tenuous agreements with minor nobles in the surrounding area, more missions that were barely making ends meet, and problems that came in a never-ending stream. It was taking a toll on my body more noticeably than I wanted. And when I closed rifts I felt like I was going to die right then and there.

"Good conception of time, Alaran," Wisdom started in our mocking of a greeting between a spirit and a mortal. "I have the most...is everything alright?"

A shake of my head. She drifted closer and cupped my face in her wispy, ethereal hands.  _"Lethallin,_ you feel...your aura is sick." She slowly came to her conclusion. "The illness. It has returned."

This time I nodded once. No sooner than I had, Wisdom pull me into her embrace. I closed my eyes and let out a trembling breath, but no tears surfaced to teeter on the edge of spilling. "I can't tell anyone, Wis. Bubba is the only one who knows besides you."

"The Hand works in ways we cannot understand, Alaran," she consoled, using the spirit term for the "Universe." So she had come so the same conclusion I did. "You are from another world, added into the Weaving of this one like a beautiful, priceless thread. But, when looked closely enough, it could see that you were not part of the original piece. So now it's attempting to give you the fate you had prior. It does not intend evil upon you; that is just the way things were supposed to be."

"What I don't understand is why was I sent here just so I could die from the same thing that was killing me back on Earth?" I questioned somewhat angrily. "Why did she do this to me when she knew the outcome?"

Wisdom chuckled kindly and pulled away so she could tip my chin up with the side of her index finger. "Let us not speak of a person arguably more complex than the Hand itself,  _da'vhenan._ But know that she is aware of your suffering, and she will not let you go alone."

"You make her sound as if she's some goddess."

"No, a goddess she is not. But she is a Traveler. And Travelers have seen where countless gods and goddesses have succeeded and failed. And she will not fail you."

My laugh was weak and soft. "Now you're making her out to be like the Doctor."

"Oh, no. She is much older than he is."

I rolled my eyes, some tension I had been holding in for the last few weeks evaporating. We sat down as the Fade shifted lazily around us, unaware of the nature of the conversation between the old spirit and I. "You're not going to tell Solas, are you?"

"No. His care can sometimes be viewed as...other emotions," Wisdom put delicately, causing me to snort. "But know that he will find out, sooner or later. Just as they all will."

"Yet another secret waiting to pop," I sighed. "But this one I won't be able to keep hidden, not for long."

"What symptoms have you been having?"

"The signs that say it's already spread to an advanced state. Sudden tiredness, shortness of breath, an unexpected fit of coughing that makes me sick to my stomach. I expect I'll be spitting up bloody phlegm, soon. And if things progress like they did the last time, the cancer will spread to my liver and bones. Tell me, Wis, did the elves ever have things like cancer? Or any fatal illnesses at all?"

"No. I suppose that was one of their civilization's problems. Nothing could kill them except for a blade to the gut or an arrow through the throat. But after the Veil was erected, the elves were exposed to all matters of mortality. Every last one."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure that was...difficult to watch."

"It was. But nothing lasts forever. I think a Spirit of Wisdom should at least know that much." A short pause. "How do you feel after sealing rifts?"

"Like death. I suppose I won't be able to stay on my feet after sealing one in the distant future." I sighed and flopped back into the tall grass. "Guess I'll have to get used to the notion of dying, again."

"You've been used to that notion for a long time, Alaran. Don't exaggerate whatever poetic spiel you have prepared."

"Oh shut up," I snapped, but there was a laugh to it. "Wis, I...what's the afterlife here like? What's the truth? The elves aren't gods, the Andrastian faith is off by...by a lot. So what does that leave? Am I to be subjected to the will of a Maker I've never known? Who never intended for me to be in Thedas? Impart some wisdom, give me an insight as to what awaits."

"Insight? I suppose I--"

Before I could even turn to look at Wisdom, I was wrenched away from the Fade as pain lanced through my chest. I cried out soundlessly as my eyes opened to the canvas of a pitched tent. I sat up, trying to suck in air but unable to do so. Instinctive panic coursed through my veins, making me immediately try to position myself to breathe better. Part of me wanted to lash out a hand and reach over for Sera, who was sleeping in the bedroll over. But my pride got the best of me and I kept myself still. It would pass. It  _had_ to pass.

Bubba sensed my distress and hurried over to sit by me. I put an arm around his back and leaned into the bulk, feeling a bit of air return already. The chilly Ferelden air made me shiver; going back again to the Hinterlands to look for some lone Warden was not what I expected myself to be doing right now. And as soon as I returned to Haven I would get a crash-course on "The Game" from Josephine before attending a salon thrown by Bastien Ghislain's mistress at their hoity-toity chateau. The ambassador would most likely find that my love for politics and keen interest in cutthroat Orlesian networking and ladder-climbing may make me a...keen student. 

I laughed weakly at my own arrogance. It was somewhat appalling, but it was better to think about that over my failing body. And what a shame, too. I only had this elven shell for eleven years. The elven eleven, that's what gets ya. 

"Oi," Sera mumbled sleepily, "stop with that heavy breathin'. Not good for ya lungs."

"Sorry, Sera," I spoke softly, feeling that familiar tightness in my throat.

"Better be, Ally. Tryin' ta catch my beauty sleep, 'ere."

Seeing as I wasn't going to be able to lie down anytime soon, I lifted my arm off of Bubba and groped for my coat nearby. When I didn't bother to open my eyes and just  _look_ in the dark for it, I simply wrapped my blanket around my shoulders and stood up to duck through the tent flap. Bubs followed behind silently, as loyal as can be.

Solas was outside on watch, gazing at the stars before turning his attention to my appearance. I gave a small smile that didn't meet my eyes and took a seat upwind from the low campfire's smoke. "You should be resting," he said simply.

"Advise coming from you? If I take it, would I be susceptible to close-minded racism and an outlandish view on the..." I bit my lower lip and let the anger with my sudden snap fade. "Sorry. I can't sleep. Deprivation does wonders for one's mood." I leaned against Bubs once more and sleepily gazed into the low flames. "The Wardens. They're susceptible to some form of corruption," I suddenly found myself softly speaking. "Corypheus can move through and manipulate the Blight...I'm pretty sure that's how he freed himself from Vimmark. And I also think that's why the Wardens have gone missing. Or at least a contributing factor of some sort. I'm rusty on my history of the Blight, so I can't be for certain. Whoever this Warden we're looking for may be...hopefully he can provide answers." 

Solas was now looking at me with glinting curiosity. "You encountered Corypheus before?"

I gave a single nod. "They didn't know who he was, at the time. Not fully. I doubt they even wanted to. Hawke and the gang, I mean. But he...he wanted me. As a sacrifice? Something like that." I coughed slightly, bringing the blanket to my mouth to shield it before continuing. "And from the way the Fade leaked into the present from the blast site at Sacred Ashes, he sure as heck recognized me." 

"Why did he want you as a sacrifice?"

"I don't know? Maybe to be the ultimate broodmother? I'm sure I'd make spectacular darkspawn babies with my twenty thousand boobies." Solas gave an undignified snort at that remark. The smile I allotted was more real, this time. "Nah, he, uh, he wanted to sacrifice me to Dumat. I think he could tell that I'm not...I'm not from around here." I left out the part about him talking about "Dumat's ultimate rival" or some shit like that. It was Hallah, no doubt. But I wasn't ready to share that sensitive piece of information to Solas. 

"You are correct about Corypheus' ability to transition from one tainted being to the other," Solas responded quietly. "And combined with Blighted lyrium..."

"We're up shit's creek with our mouths wide open, I know," I sighed, sinking back into a semi-sleepy state with hurting lungs. "It's not a new revelation." After a yawn, I asked, "Shouldn't Varric be on watch, now?"

"Yes. I was preparing to awaken him before you came," Solas replied, standing fluidly to his feet. I hated how I could  _feel_ the Veil shifting around him, crackling and pulling, begging him to have the power he once held. "Perhaps you should return to your tent as well." 

"Nah, I'm fine out here," I brushed off. "Send out the dwarf."

I had a severe complex when it came to maintaining strength of all kinds. Physical, mental, emotional. Without them, I wouldn't be able to face the brutalities committed upon me in the past as well as what awaited in the future. It kept me from curling up in a ball and confessing everything to Varric as he came and sat by me to share countless, irrelevant, wonderful stories. This Inquisition was what would save the world, and I was at the very head of it. How could I afford not to be strong?

But no matter how much strength I had, I still couldn't ignore the fact that I was dying. I was dying, and I would leave everybody with little to no hope of being able to save Thedas from destruction. I feared the mantle of that reality was killing me, too. 

"Everything alright, Al?" Varric questioned easily as he poked the campfire to keep it burning. "You look a little haunted."

"I am haunted," I smirked, feeling weariness behind my eyes. "Haunted by the fact that you and Cassandra haven't hooked up already."

Until I was dead, though, I would try my best to stay alive. Not only that, but to  _have_ life. Few others got such miraculous second chances as I have.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole past week I've been saying, "Tonight is the night you're going to get a new chapter posted. Tonight is the night." But did that happen? No! So I'm terribly sorry for the delay. And I'm also sorry for the end of this chapter ending up just like the last one, where Al and Solas have chit-chat around the campfire. It was not originally my intention. I remember the good ol' days, when I was cranking out a chapter of Wait, What? practically every day of the week. Thanks for hanging in there with me, though! You guys are all-around just as lovely as can be.
> 
> And on a side note...I want to be as accurate as I possibly can concerning the lung cancer that's popped back up in Alaran's life. Are there any suggestions you guys have? Or helpful websites I can look at? Thanks!
> 
> I'm found tumbling at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	27. Griffons and Dragons, Oh Boy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets two new recruits

"I see somebody, there by the cabin," Cassandra declared, pointing to the blurry, wooden building on the other side of Lake Luthias. I tried disguising my squint, but that was nearly impossible. Not that it made any difference; whether I tried to deny it or not, I was going blind. And by blind, I mean that my annoying, extremely severe near-sightedness was returning. My eyes still allowed me to see more than twenty feet away, but that wouldn't last. 

"Let's go check it out," I declared, pretending like I knew what the heck everybody else was seeing. It was a good thing I was a warrior; as long as I could see to the end of my blade, I would live.

Hopefully. 

"You think it's the Warden we're looking for?" Varric prompted as we skirted the edges of the shoreline. I had to resist the temptation of picking the abundant supply of blood lotus and spindleweed. If only I had my pail with me.

"Maybe," I replied. "It'll save us another trip across the Hinterlands if that's the case. But be on guard; it would be pretty awkward if we came across, like, a blood magic ritual or something without a proper sacrifice to give."

Cassandra made an offended, disgusted noise. 

As soon as we came within earshot, I heard a gruff, commanding voice speak instructions as naturally as if it were breathing. "Remember how to carry your shields! You're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise it's useless!"

"Blackwall?" I called after seeing the griffon breastplate gleaming on the dark, bearded man's chest. "Warden Blackwall?" More than a part of me wanted to make what  _I_ though was a griffon-like screech to see if the guy  _really_ was a Warden.

The "no's" I got from it were shocking and hurtful.

He turned suddenly upon me, as if surprised that somebody was using his name. There was a flash of anger, sadness, and shock on his face before steel glinted in the sunlight as he stormed up. "You're not--how do you know my name? Who sent...?  _Argh!"_

Blackwall thrust his shield up a moment before an arrow drove itself into its surface. I reeled back, but quickly overcame the near-death experience and reached behind me to draw my sword. Past the thin treeline of pines I saw about half a dozen blurry figures. What I did see--what I saw very _clearly--_ was Blackwall glaring back at me, like _I_ was the one who drew the arrow. In a raised voice he said, "That's it, help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first!" With the motion of his longsword, he directed the young men he had been training into a forward position. "Conscripts! Here they come!"

The fight was short and brutal. I was unfortunate enough to be battered with a shield from one of the bandits (or at least I assumed they were bandits) and go flying sideways. His ribcage was then shattered as Bubs locked his jaw on the man's waist. The war hound tore free, causing a fountain of blood to spray on the damp, grassy ground. By then I was already back up and on my feet, blinking away the small stars bursting in front of my eyes and spitting out the blood pooling in my mouth. It was a painful, exhilarating reminder that I just didn't cough the stuff up.

As the din of the battle came to a close, I watched as Blackwall drove his sword into the earth and knelt by one of the dead men, who looked to have a quick, merciful death by three of Sera's arrows sunk into his chest area."Sorry bastards," he muttered before standing once more. I observed the reaction, filing it away to be analyzed later.

"Good work, conscripts," addressed Blackwall to the men who had fought beside us. "Even if this shouldn't have happened. They could've--well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves."

Bubs and I shared a look. A Grey Warden? Sending conscripts home? If we had just fought the Sixth Blight, then I should have Josephine erect a great statue of me. If not, then...

Something was amiss. 

"You're no farmer," he said to me as I approached. "Why do you know my name? Who are you?"

"I know your name because I'm an agent of the Inquisition," I responded evenly. "We're investigating whether the disappearance of Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine." The words tasted sour in my mouth.

The statement got Blackwall's attention. "Maker's balls, the Wardens and the Divine? They can't--no, you're asking, so you don't really know." As he spoke I glanced up and down, trying to sense the taint on him. The few Wardens--and Blighted--I had come across somehow seemed to twist the Fade, like the Veil itself was recoiling from what writhed and flowed inside them. Blackwall had none of that. "First off, I didn't know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

"I'm not here to accuse," I said reassuringly, "Not yet. I just need information." And it seemed that I was getting a whole lot more information than I had previously thought I would.

Warden Gordon Blackwall was not a Warden at all. For whatever reason he hadn't gone through the Joining. I was going off of pure instinct and needed to do more reconnaissance, but for the moment I had made my conclusion. 

"I've only found you," I went on. "Where are the rest?"

"I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting." He had told himself theses lies so many times he actually believed them. I had seen it occur in many people, myself included. "Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need. Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I "conscripted" their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me. The Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are." Blackwall spoke the actual truth, that time. 

"Do you have any idea where the other Wardens could have gone?" I prompted, asking the question for question's sake. If Blackwall was still here, as cool as a cucumber and unaware of the Calling Corypheus set off in the ranks of the Wardens, then he wouldn't know. 

"Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt? That's in the Anderfels, a long way north." He shook his head. "I don't really know. Can't imagine why they'd all disappear at once, let alone where they'd disappear to."

"Well, that's great and all, but I'm still left with nothing," I sighed shortly and turned to walk away. Though I had suppressed most of it, I did have a small flicker of hope in regards to Blackwall being able to give me  _something_ we could go off of. 

"Inquisition," he called, causing me to pause. "Agent, did you say? Hold a moment." He filled the several feet between us. "The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved."

Wait...this was awfully familiar to almost every recruitment cutscene in every Bioware game ever. Was this dude one of the companions? Freak, it felt like centuries ago that I saw the  _Inquisition_ trailer. But as my mind clicked, sparks flying on the inside of my skull, I remembered that he was. It was something so wonderfully surprising I had to bite back a grin. What made it even  _better_ was that Blackwall was, like, the embodiment of how I pictured Samuel Hamilton from  _East of Eden._

Blackwall met me with an earnest gaze. "If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me."

"The Inquisition needs all the support it can get," I replied, face calm and collected and hiding away the brimming happiness, "but what can one Grey Warden do?"

His beard shifted as he smiled underneath it. "Save the fucking world, if pressed. Look, maybe fighting demons from the sky isn't something I'm practiced at, but show me someone who is. And like I said, there are treaties. Maybe this isn't a Blight, but it's bloody well a disaster. Some will honor them. Being a Warden means something to a lot of people."

The glad smirk on my face hurt the side of my cheek; there was a bruise forming already from the shield bash earlier, I just knew it. "Warden Blackwall," I declared, "the Inquisition accepts your offer."

Blackwall gave a small bow. "Good to hear. We both need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition."

"Now isn't that nice," Varric grumbled loudly enough for us to hear. "Somebody who  _likes_ walking."

"Ignore him," I advised. "He's just mad that he has to be anywhere outside of a tavern where the sun is shining and fresh air can be breathed in."

-

We decided to stay the rest of the evening in the Inquisition camp nearby, the one that tucked below the run-off at Lake Luthias. I idly suggested it so we wouldn't run into any more bandits or other threats to our life. The exertion battle was taking on my body was forming a layer on my bones, stringing twine in my lungs. But I put on a mask, nevertheless. The veneer was worn proudly, so much that nobody realized it was all a facade.

"Hey, Al, look what I found," Varric declared proudly from across the camp. Blackwall's and my conversation paused and I looked up from running a whetstone over my blade, eyes narrowing a fraction as I tried to get the dwarf's slightly fuzzy figure to clear.

"No, Varric," I stated bluntly when I saw the lute he was holding up.

"Aw, come on, you know you want to." He sat down beside me to hold out the instrument enticingly. 

"That's most likely one of the soldier's lutes. Do you know how precious one's instrument is to them? Touching that lute without their owner's consent is like kicking somebody else's kid. Not that kicking your own kid is acceptable, but you get my point."

"Don't worry, I got permission. I know how weird you artists are about stuff like that."

"A warrior and a musician?" Blackwall prompted, interest piquing at a similar level to everybody else's. "Now this I'd like to see."

Cassandra was trying to hold back her own excitement. She had been dying to hear me both play the lute and sing a song. What a fan girl.

"Wot? Nobody told me ya was all sweet on the strings," Sera blurted as she tore into a hunk of bread with cheese jammed in the middle.

"That's because it wasn't  _worth_ mentioning," I said pointedly to Varric. "And can't you see I'm a little busy?" For some reason I kept trying to deny my readiness to play despite the twitching in my fingers.

"What's it going to take to get you to play? It's been five years, Al. Give a dwarf a break."

I rolled my eyes and gave a shake of the head. "Fine, fine, but it's gonna be a sad song. Can you handle that?" The question was directed to the entire group. Even to Solas, who was further away and idly tending to his staff. 

"'Course we can, Ally. We're a fockin tough group of people, yeah?" declared Sera. I shrugged and set my greatsword and accompanying whetstone down on the ground beside the fair-sized rock I was sitting on. Soon a lute was placed on my lap. It was strange because it wasn't mine, but familiar because I had held one so many times. I plucked at the strings, meticulously tuning it before I played. Once I was ready, I cleared my throat and dabbed my lower lip with the flick of a tongue. The sky was a rich indigo, lightening into peach and gold the closer it drew to the sun which had dipped below the mountain range. A small fire was crackling and curling and the campsite was settling down for the evening. In the distance the sound of the small waterfall made itself known by cascading onto the rocks below. 

It was the perfect time to play.

Moving my fingers across the lute strings came as naturally as breathing. I lost myself almost immediately, swallowed up by the awe of music. And when I opened my mouth to sing, my lungs shook free of their captivity for this short period of time. I didn't know when I could experience such a feeling ever again, so I might as well seize the moment. 

 _"Too long I have traveled, soon I'll see her smiling,_  
_The girl in Red Crossing I'm longing to see._  
_O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,_  
_Waiting by the Chantry to marry me._

 _I've dreamed of the kiss I stole 'neath the arbor._  
_I've dreamed of the promise 'neath the old ash tree._  
_O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,_  
_Waiting by the Chantry to marry me."_

I found myself moving away from the typical lute solo. I let my mind transition into that state where all I saw were sounds and all I heard were colors, flashing and cracking and winding and building. It was a wonder that I pulled back in to continue singing.  
  
_"One last stream to cross, one last hill to wander._  
_Until I reach the love I'm longing to see._  
_O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,_  
_Waiting by the Chantry to marry me."_

The lute's strings faded to a single, melancholic strum. A heaviness settled atop my heart and the world was just me, my lute, and words that somehow composed themselves into something that made grown men weep.   
  
_"Running through the streets, only silence follows._  
_Elven arrows sunk into the old ash tree._  
_O, I know she's there, daisies in her hair,_  
_Waiting by the Chantry to marry me."_

I stopped strumming, casting my eyes down to the wooden curves of the lute. When the song ended, reality would return. And reality brought pain with it. Perhaps that was why a single tear spilled from my eye and rolled down my cheek, clear and unseen.  
  
_"Ruby on the green, petals lost and drifting._  
_Take her to His side, Andraste hear my plea._  
_I found her lying there, daisies in her hair,_  
_Waiting by the Chantry to marry me."_

Then there was an ache in my back and an oncoming headache. The moon was blurry and half of my face was still throbbing from being bashed with that shield earlier. Cassandra was furiously wiping her eyes and pinching her nose, Blackwall was loudly clearing his throat, Sera was grumbling swear words and recklessly sharpening an arrow. Varric was absently patting Bubs' head, face weary and worn. Solas was nowhere to be seen. 

I coughed a couple of times and stood, making an apologetic face as I did so. "Told ya," I sighed, then went off to find the Inquisition soldier who let me borrow their lute. But I had played. I had played and sung and brought people to tears.

While my body was failing, my spirit soared into the stars.

-

It was merely by happenstance that Blackwall came upon what he did in the early hours of the morning. He was only going back to the small cabin by Lake Luthias to gather what few items he had. He was so focused on his task that he almost missed the figure sitting upon a rock.

Long white hair hanging down a back, fingers deftly braiding it into an intricate bun. As the veil of locks were pulled away, it revealed a spattering of scars, skin pulling taut over ribs, and a deep, discolored bruise staining her entire left side.

"M-my lady," he stammered dumbly, quickly averting his gaze and feeling a flush creep up his neck and ears. Alaran glanced briefly over her shoulder, a glint of violet eyes reflecting in the early morning sunrise. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean--"

"It's alright," she chuckled softly, a hoarseness to her flitting voice. "I'm only naked. Not much to see here, anyways."

"I see a warrior's body," he admitted, forcing his eyes upwards and to Alaran's back. "May I ask why you're sitting atop a rock half-naked?"

A faint laugh.  _"Ask not, wherefore, here alone, conversing as I may. I sit upon this old grey stone and dream my time away."_

The sudden poetic sentence took Blackwall off-guard. Alaran twisted her hair with nimble fingers and stuck a few pins in before letting her hands drop. "Sorry," she apologized as she moved to put a breast band on. "I'm just...thinking. One tends to do that when they can't sleep. Decided to do my hair all nice and stuff while I was at it. I just bathed and got dressed here because Sera's a grumpy sleeper and hates it when I rustle around." A tunic was smoothly tugged on. "I'm going to do some stretches. Wanna join?" 

"Sure," he grunted. Alaran turned her body around and slid off the rock. She popped her back, hips, knees, and what Blackwall presumed were her collarbones. He moved to join her near the shore to stretch out their muscles. He was starting to roll his shoulders and pull on his arms when Alaran just...bent in half. It was slow, meticulous, and unnatural. He stopped to stare at how the elf hugged her calves, breathing in and out.

"Er..." Blackwall wasn't sure what to do. Or say. Was he supposed to try and bend his body like a snapped twig?

Alaran sensed his discomfort and looked up, smiling. The bruise on her face was a mixture of black and purple and blue, tinged with yellows and browns. "Ope. Sorry. I'm used to doing these things by myself." She straightened back up and raised her arms high in the air. "Just follow my lead."

And thus began the strangest series of exercises Blackwall had ever done. She was much more...limber...than he, but was patient and taught him new techniques to improve fitness of the lungs. There were a few times they had to pause so she could clear her chest by coughing, but it was hardly a nuisance. This warrior, this elf...she was something else entirely. Blackwall wasn't sure how to take her. Though she showed kindness and courage, finesse and brutality, there was a darkness behind her eyes. Something heavy had crept into her mind, woven through her speech and gaze.

Alaran had secrets. Secrets as devastating as Blackwall's.

But if she could be a member of the Inquisition while still holding all of that and _seem_  to be happy, then so could he.

-

"I don't want to go through those gates," I stated darkly as I stared at the entrance to Haven. "Can't I just stay out here and pretend to modify my armor?"

"What armor?" Sera snorted. "All you wear is a dumb jacket that's too big for ya."

"Shut up. You know what's behind those gates? Josephine Montilyet. And do you know what she has planned for me? For me to  _wear?"_

"Wear for what?" Blackwall questioned as he unsaddled his mount. I did the same with my own. The scent of horse sweat made the corners of my lips turn upwards for a moment. 

"For a  _salon._ And not the fun kind, where they do your hair and stuff." I handed the saddle off to one of the stable hands, who gave me a brief bow before carrying it off. "I don't know what an Orlesian wants to do with the Inquisition, but it's probably not something wholesome. And I'm going to get crap for looking like a half-bruised banana."

"Are you an emissary?" continued Blackwall somewhat hesitantly, as if his brain was reluctantly piecing things together.

"Oh, you can say that," I responded lightly, twisting my mouth into a straight line so it wouldn't smirk. "Some would even go as far as calling me the Herald."

He stopped, started, then stopped again. The reaction sent Sera and Varric into a fit of laughter. "Nobody told you, did they?" the dwarf prompted. "You should feel special, Hero! The Herald of Andraste personally was sent to retrieve you! And you had a two-day journey with her!"

I was laughing myself, by now. I could do that, because today there was no pain, no coughing. It was a good day.

"Alright, I'll see you guys later," I said to the three who remained with me. "Take Blackwall to the tavern. He can drink off the shock."

"Ya got it, Ally," Sera said with an impish grin. I waved goodbye and turned on my heels to meet the ambassador. Bubs had already ran off to be with Cullen and his soldiers, leaving me alone to make the trek up to the Chantry. 

When I walked into Josephine's office, the first thing she said was, "Oh, I like your hair like that." 

"Thank you, ma'am." I absently patted my half-braid, half-bun before shrugging off my coat and hanging it over the back of the chair opposite of Josephine. She noted my simple tunic, vest, sash, and scarf with a keen eye. I caught it and sighed as I sat down. "I know, I know, this outfit simply won't do to meet the duke or any of his cohorts. But I'm telling you, Josie, it's basically the only thing I have. All of my stuff is in Kirkwall."

"Yes, and I will request for your belongings to be sent soon. Until then, we must make with what we have."

"And that is? I don't see any curtains nearby that I can make into a dress."

"Pardon...?" She pursed her lips at my raised eyebrow and composed herself. "You will be noticed, Lady Lavellan, whether you like it or not. This invitation was for purpose. I am unsure what he endgame is, but knowing Duke Ghislain's mistress...well, Leliana's people have found nothing on her intent."

I took in her furrowed brow, her fingers clenching the feathered quill, a strand of loose hair hanging near her temple. 

My witty retort faded. I tilted my head a fraction to the right. "Ambassador Montilyet, do you think I will flounder in the midst of the Game? That I will ruin potential alliances for the Inquisition because I'm unable to comprehend what's going on?" It wasn't a biting question; I made the sincerity and concern in my voice noticeable.

"No, that is not..." Josephine bit her lip briefly. "I am merely worried that something will go wrong. This is the most important appearance you will have made thus far in the Inquisition; everything has to be just right."

I offered a small, comforting smile. "I know, Josie. The Inquisition is as important to me as it is you." My next breath was the process of putting my reluctance behind me and diving into preparation. "I want to know everything you have on the guests that will be there. Duke Ghislain, his closest acquaintances, his mistress. Enchanter Vivienne, was it? You mentioned that the court calls her by another title."

"Madame de Fer."

A bemused expression crossed my face. "The Lady of Iron? Surely she couldn't have wanted people to call her that. Wait, no, don't answer. I'm going to guess that she did. Anyways, once we get that out of the way, we're going to pick out an outfit."

Josephine was feeling the heat of my flame. Her hand began to fly across the page, the feathers on the quill bouncing and swaying rigorously. "I'm assuming you have something in mind, Herald?"

She didn't catch my grin before it disappeared back into a smirk. "We're going to show those Orlesians that Duke Ghislain's mistress isn't the only one who's armed for battle."

-

When the doors opened, the room silenced. Only the band playing saved it from utter quiet. I strode through, tilting my head up and looking around like I had seen the chateau too many times to be impressed. When my name was announced, murmuring started back up. Ninety percent of it was about me.

The dress I wore came from my own funds. Josephine was a tad startled when I said I could cover the costs, but only if she could convince Harritt to provide me with the metal pauldron, gauntlet, and breastplate. The gown itself was an ethereal blue that swept high up my neck and down low to the floor, ruched against my hip. Intricate swirls etched up the fabric, composed of ghostly silver.  There was only one sleeve on my left arm, and that was because I had strapped the summer stone pauldron onto my shoulder and put the matching gauntlet on below it. There was little significance of the armor being on the left side other than the fact that I still needed to cover heavy bruising. The breastplate itself wasn't for battle; the room left for my breasts was a tell-tale sign that I wouldn't be caught dead in a fight while wearing it. If I had, I would wind up dead after a blade or an arrow glanced off the metal boobies and into my real ones. What a waste that would be. 

My hair was pulled up and piled on top of my head, laced with silver twine that caught the light in the chateau. Kohl hid the natural color of my eyelashes and lined two violet eyes. The bruising on my face had been mostly covered up by a sheer layer of white powder; the party itself was dark enough that any discoloration would be mistaken for the lighting. I could only imagine how overwhelmed I would have felt if I was years younger than I was now. But thanks to everything I had been through, I walked in knowing that I could command attention and take power without anybody hardly realizing. All I had to do was not trip over my dress because of the damn heels Josephine had me wear.

And Orlesians flocked to me. "What a pleasure to meet you, my lady," one said pleasantly, his voice tempered to sound as if it were an original statement. "Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome." When I only offered a small smile and let my eyes drift to another group, he fell for my disinterest and continued a bit hastily, "So you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?"

"Are you here on business?" the woman beside him questioned, lips barely reaching above the ridiculous ruff around her neck. I wondered if she could place berries atop of it and lean her head back to roll them into her mouth. "I have heard the most curious tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true."

My half-lidded gaze and sharp smile made them lean closer in anticipation. "Everything you've heard? Completely true."

"Better and better!" the lady tittered. "The Inquisition should attend more of these parties."

"The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit!" a voice cried dramatically. We turned to look at another masked little bastard descend the beautifully gilded staircase. He stopped a few feet a ways from me, proclaiming, "Washed-up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously." He walked past me, leaving a trail of heady cologne and the smell of practiced steps. "Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power."

Ah. He had turned profile for me to take my cue. "The Inquisition is working to restore peace and order to Thedas," I said clearly, voice carrying above the music. 

"Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army!" Two steps forward, enough to be intimidating but not enough to truly harm me. "We know what your "Inquisition" truly is. If you were a woman of honor, you'd step outside and answer the charges."

My eyebrow only twitched. I watched with an expressionless gaze as the nobleman reached behind his shoulder to grab a dagger. Right at that moment there was a loud  _snap_ of the fingers and he stiffened with ice. 

Ice cast by magic.

Oh, how very  _dramatic._ I was loving this show, and so thankful to be part of it. 

"My dear marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house...To my guests."

The woman who glided down the stairs was a dragon in disguise. We latched eyes, sizing each other up. And though I  _knew_ this was Enchanter Vivienne, The Lady of Iron, I couldn't help but fall in love with her prowess. She was fully aware that she was a force to be reckoned with. 

"You know such rudeness is...intolerable," she continued to say, hips swaying as she circled around the noble with the grace of a leopard. She was  _good._ I almost believed that this wasn't an act.

"Madame Vivienne," the marquis choked forcibly through his stiffened state, "I humbly beg your pardon!"

"You should," the enchantress said, stopping to stand in front of him. "Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?" Vivienne then turned to me, dark gray eyes meeting mine. "My lady, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me to with this foolish, foolish man?" 

I decided to play along and act like I didn't see past the performance. "The marquis is hardly of interest to me," I replied with a balanced, noncommittal tone. "Do whatever you like with him."

Vivienne gave a slight nod of her head before placing a hand underneath her captive's chin. "Poor marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord." With another snap of her fingers she released him from his state, after which he began coughing. That part was real. "And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange's doublet. Didn't she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning...and you're still here. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade could put an end to the misery of your failure?"

_Slay._

The enchantress' words seemed to have a real effect on the marquis, whose shoulders dropped with the amount of public shame he was receiving. I hoped she paid him well or had no more debt to settle. "Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt."

As the marquis fled the chateau and the party returned to its regular routine, Vivienne swirled around to me, glittering and shimmering in her formidable, impeccable outfit. "I'm delighted you could attend this little gathering. I've so wanted to meet you."

"I'm honored to be here, Enchantress Vivienne," I said gracefully. "I've had little first-hand experience with the Game; to be in the heat of it all is quite exhilarating."

She tossed her head back to the perfect angle and laughed. "My dear, that little confrontation was hardly a scratch at the surface of the Game. But it is sweet of you to think of it as that."

It was my turn to react. I smiled, but did not chuckle. And instead of the half-lidded gaze I was wearing earlier, my eyes were bright and alive, brimming with a secret ready to be exposed. "Enchantress, excuse me for my bluntness, but just because Orlesians wear masks to represent hiding their true intent does not mean that they can make an act look real. May I suggest that you choose a nobleman who can perform better, next time? It was believable, at best, but I know rehearsed lines and intent when I see one. Nevertheless, you have caught my attention and admiration. Different than you had hoped, I imagine, but...the end goal was the same, yes?"

Vivienne was now looking at me in an entirely new light. I was no longer a pair of ears with a fancy dress; I was fighter, just as she, battling her way through the Game in an attempt to find victory.

"Walk with me, Herald," Vivienne instructed, motioning for me to follow her to one of the wings of the chateau.  _One foot in front of the other,_ I silently reminded myself as I tried to walk as effortlessly as Vivienne down the hall and not stumble and face-plant. Though the routine was becoming more natural and no longer took as much concentration, I was relieved when we stopped by an open window. Her silverite mask shone in the moonlight, and her grey eyes became a pale lilac color.  

"I am assuming I was not invited to the chateau merely for pleasantries and frilly cakes," I spoke, maintaining a pristine posture. 

"I wish it were so," Vivienne replied. "With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."

Oh.  _The leader of the last loyal mages._ That basically translated into: I want the Circles restored to their former glory and be under the watchful, never-blinking eyes of the Chantry and Templars until my fellow colleagues return to their brink of insanity and hopelessness. I wasn't going to open that bag of cats at the moment. I had to wonder, though, just what had happened in the past to form Madame de Fer's ideals and opinions. 

Instead I asked, "And what is in this for you?"

"The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos: the chance to meet my enemy, to decide my fate. I won't wait quietly for destruction."

"A wholesome goal, of course," I responded. "What can you bring to the Inquisition, my lady?"

"I am well-versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire. I know every member of the Imperial Court personally. I have all the resources remaining to the Circle at my disposal." Her chin lifted a centimeter. "And I am a mage of no small talent. Will that suffice?"

A moment passed. In that moment, I weighed the pros and the cons of having Vivienne de Fer aboard.

Josephine was going to have a fit.

"The Inquisition welcomes you, Lady Vivienne," I said with a real smile, just to let her know that I could do very...real...things, pleasant or unpleasant. 

Her smile was real, as well. "Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that."

And Madame de Fer never broke her promises.

She linked her arm with mine to steer us back to the party. "We will discuss the details in the morning. Tell me, my dear, where are you staying?"

"At _L'hôtel de la Fierté du Lion."_

"That simply won't do. As the Herald of Andraste, you will be staying here at the chateau. I'll have a messenger sent to the hotel informing them to cancel reservations. When you return to your room, you will find a change of clothes in the wardrobe for sleeping. Perhaps in the morning we can shop at the marketplace in Val Royeaux before departure? I do hope you will accompany me back to Haven; the journey will most likely be terribly boring, but I believe that it would be bearable traveling with a person who has a mind such as yours..."

I had a feeling Blackwall and Vivienne were going to get along  _spectacularly._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holey moley guys, it's taken me forever to post this chapter. But I do hope you've enjoyed it.
> 
> The song "The Girl in Red Crossing" is a beautiful song. I based the way Al plays it off Irene Zhong's version, because she does such a devastatingly beautiful job of singing it. I strongly suggest that you copy and paste this http://irenezhong.bandcamp.com/track/the-girl-in-red-crossing into your interwebs bar and check her out.
> 
> Thanks for hanging in there with me! And thanks for staying lovely. <3


	28. Seeking that Shred of Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al meets a Qunari and gets sicker. It sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear the rain upon the leaves, above the sky lies grey.  
> A shred of blue would be denied. Alas, he could not stay.
> 
> And so he came upon the place  
> Where so many tread before.  
> One last look upon the world  
> Before he crossed that final door.
> 
> Hear the rain upon the leaves, above the sky lies grey.  
> A shred of blue would be denied. Alas, he could not stay.
> 
> Birds reel across the endless sky, above a house upon the plain.  
> In memory she sings to him of a time before the rain.
> 
> Sweet Andraste, hear our song  
> For his road will be ours too.  
> Before darkness claims our souls  
> Let us see that shred of blue.

Cobwebs drifted lightly in my chest as the terrain of the Storm Coast engulfed us. I gripped the reins of my horse tighter and tried to ignore it. There weren't any known potions that could just  _cure_ cancer in Thedas; all I could do was chug some regeneration potions I had stashed away deep in one of my packs. It stemmed the worst of my sickness throughout the day, but on particularly bad ones all it did was keep me from passing out.

Nobody saw, yet. I supposed they simply chose not to. Right now they were looking at the Herald, not Alaran. To them I had faced hell and came back smirking; a little bout of coughing was normal for everybody. 

"This is shite," Sera complained for the millionth time. She was much like Varric in the sense that if it wasn't the city then they weren't happy. At least they weren't together, for once. Varric had opted out of the adventure, finally deeming myself a big enough girl to go without his help. Cassandra still came, as well as Blackwall. He wanted to be with us while we hunted down Grey Warden artifacts. Though he technically wasn't one, I had to give it to the guy--he was still as staunch and passionate about the organization as any I had ever come across. 

The first and foremost reason we were going to the Storm Coast was the fact that a certain Bull's Chargers wanted to meet with the Inquisition. I leaped on the opportunity the moment one of the men, Krem, had informed me in Haven about it. The Bull's Chargers had inadvertently saved my ass a couple years back. It was...where? On the outskirts of Amaranthine, I believed. The small caravan I was travelling with (it was a free passage if I offered my medical expertise to the owner's pregnant wife) when we crested a ridge and saw a seven-foot-tall Qunari and his group fighting an astonishing number of bandits. I already had my sword in hand by the time I realized that they had everything taken care of. Once a dwarf exploded most of them to bits I knew who had won the skirmish. Either he was a Tal-Vashoth travelling with a mercenary band--not uncommon in Ferelden--or he was an actual Qunari...

A Qunari spy. Why else would he be in the middle of Ferelden, with--

My train of thought was then interrupted by a pleading cry. The wife had gone into labor and needed my assistance. Later on I was able to infer who they were through multiple nights sitting at campfires and in taverns. The Bull's Chargers, a mercenary group who was expensive...but worth it.

Harding was there to greet us at the main Inquisition camp and reported the unsavory situation with the Blades of Hessarian. I pretended like I was listening, but really it was all I could do not to keep from coughing in her pretty little face. It was the damn weather. The last time I had been up here taking a ship to Val Royeaux, my symptoms weren't as severe. And that was...what, two months ago? Somewhere around there. It posed the problem of hiding my illness from everybody else keeping a scrutinizing eye on me. I couldn't ever let my guard down around the people I was no associating myself with. There was  _nobody_ in this little group who was a normal person ignorant to the nuances of life around them. Varric had a falcon's eye when it came to noticing the unseen, Sera spent years with the Red Jennies, Cassandra had been the Right Hand of the Divine, Solas was a  _god,_ Vivienne came from the pits of the Imperial Court itself, Leliana was  _the_ Spymaster, Cullen was part of the Templar Order, and Josephine...

Well, Josephine was something else entirely.

The only person with some semblance of normality was Blackwall, and even he had a keen eye for seeing past walls of obscurity. If I let myself show weakness for even one moment, they would know. 

Why was I even trying to hide it from them? Oh, right, because if the Herald of the Holy Andraste herself was dying, then there would be no hope. Right now, my main goal in life was to get the Breach sealed before the cancer consumed too much of me. And after Corypheus would be revealed, the Inquisition would know their enemy. They could take care of it from there, and I would die as a nice, lovely martyr. 

It was better than wasting away in a bed soaked with my own numb despair. 

"Whoa, whot's goin on down there?" Sera pointed out as we crested a ridge that dropped off to the shoreline below. I narrowed my eyes, desperately trying to focus my vision in order to see what was going on. When I couldn't rely on my eyesight, I let my ears twitch like antennas to try and pick up any sort of sounds past the drizzling rain. 

"Looks like a fight," Blackwall observed. "And there's a giant Qunari man swinging a battleaxe. Is that the Iron Bull?"

"They look as if they will be overwhelmed," Cassandra said, gripping the hilt of her sword in preparation. "Herald?"

"Well, we did come to meet them," I said, tucking my hands in my pockets casually. "It would be un- _bull_ -evable if we didn't get the chance to do so."

"My dear, perhaps we should work on your joke-making skills?" Vivienne recommended as we descended down the hill, moving into a loose formation. Cassandra, Blackwall and I took the front while Sera and Vivienne trailed in the back.

"I'm freaking hilarious, what're you talking about?" I demanded to know. Sera snorted.

"Let's just shoot some baddies, yeah?"

Fighting with cancer riddling my body was not the most pleasant experience. When it came to skirmishes, I usually let Cassandra or Blackwall do the heavy hitting while I defended the others from armored assault. But this...this was a full-on attack, one that I couldn't recede to the background in. So I did my best, drawing on my stubbornness and will to stay alive for a bit longer. Fortunately, the tables turned because of us, and soon the small battle came to an end.

I could barely stay standing as I cleaned my greatsword of blood and sheathed it. "Chargers, stand down!" the Iron Bull commanded, his voice cutting through the downpour. Wait...

Wait. "Krem!" he called as he made his way over to his lieutenant. "How'd we do?"

"Five or six wounded, chief. No dead."

"That's what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks."

That voice...it was deeper than usual, but...

Holy fuck.

Freddie Prinze, Jr. 

The hilarity of it all made me grin despite my weakened state. "Something funny?" Blackwall asked as he picked a tooth out of his shield.

I hid it once more and gave my head a shake. "Just remembering something, Warden." I then forced myself forward so I could formally meet the mercenary captain. He saw me coming and turned so we could face on another.

"So you're with the Inquisition, huh?" I felt his eye glance down to my wobbling knees. "Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming."

Even though only one eye was operational, I could clearly see now that it was the eye of a spy. A Ben-Hassrath spy, no less.

_Shit._

I took up a seat on one of the larger boulders lining the coastline, feeling immensely overwhelmed by Iron Bull's sheer bulk. I had my fair share of traveling with Tal-Vashoth mercenaries, but none were this big. Not even Saam, and he was on the larger side.

"I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant," he said as the man walked over. 

"Good to see you again," he greeted with a nod before directing his gaze to Iron Bull. "Throatcutters are done, chief."

"Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem."

"None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?"

I didn't try to hide my smirk at Krem's backtalk. I would have to ask him later why he wore the Kirkwall insignia on his armor if he was from Tevinter. No matter where I went, that junk of a city was my home. "So..." Iron Bull began a few moments later. "You've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it..." He chuckled low in his throat. "And I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us." 

"You certainly seem useful, I'll give you that," I mused as my breathing became less of a strenuous effort. "But I have a question for you, The Iron Bull."

"What?"

I glanced up and met his pale green eye. "What's a Ben-Hassrath doing leading a mercenary group?"

My gamble had paid off. Iron Bull showed nothing but mild surprise before he returned to normal. "Guess those eyes aren't big and bright for nothing, huh?"

"Guess not," I replied.

"The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach," Iron Bull explained. "Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also  _get_ reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I'll share them with your people."

"And I'm supposing you already know about Sister Leliana?"

"Yeah. I've always had a thing for redheads."

"I can understand that." I stood once more, followed by Iron Bull. "You'll run your reports past that redhead before sending them, she approves it, you know the drill." I jerked a thumb over to Cassandra, who was standing with the rest of the group. A wonderful glower had settled on her face as she fixed her gaze at the two of us. "That one will eat you alive if you don't. And she'll enjoy it, too."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he grinned before shouting, "Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on he road. The Chargers just got hired!"

Krem threw his arms out to the side. "What about the casks, chief? We just opened them up.  _With axes."_

"Find some way to seal them. You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic."

Before Iron Bull could walk away, I called, "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

My mouth was suddenly a hard, unbreakable line. "You will be faced with the possibility of becoming Tal-Vashoth. Can you handle that reality if it comes true?"

His casual facade slipped, revealing a dangerous spy for a split-second. "Don't set yourself up as the enemy too quickly, Lavellan. Let me get to like you first."

Then I smirked. "That won't be too hard."

"You're probably right."

-

"There is a message for you, Herald," Josephine announced as I walked into the War Room, Bubs faithfully at my side. Unlike Varric, he didn't believe for one moment that I was a big girl who could take care of herself. To be honest, there were times I felt that way, too. 

"Oh? From whom?" I questioned, clearing my throat from the scratchy sound it was making. Cullen and Cassandra entered behind me and took up their respective spots.

"The King of Starkhaven."

I gasped and looked down gleefully at Bubs while he did the same to me, tail stub wagging happily. "Seb? Did you hear that, Bubberston? Choir Boy is sent me a letter! Probably so he can finally confess his love for me."

"Unfortunately, no," Leliana interrupted as she entered. It had been a while now since she had forgone her secrecy in opening my letters and resealing them before they passed onto me. 

"One of these days," I sighed as Josephine gave me the letter with the seal of Starkhaven stamped into dark red wax. "I miss that place. Why couldn't the Breach get created  _there_ instead of the coldest place on Thedas?" I gave a shake of my head and slipped the letter into one of the inner pockets of my jacket. "Anyways. Brief me on what I missed while I was away."

"We found the missing soldiers," the spymaster began, pointing to the bottom, right-hand corner of the map. "They are in a bog called the Fallow Mire."

"I take it from the look on your face that you know of the area?" Cassandra prompted dryly. My grimace deepened. 

"It just  _had_ to be the Fallow Mire, didn't it?" I sighed, a finger grazing my eyebrow as I came to terms with the revelation. "There are hostile Avvar in the mire. Please tell me the soldiers just got their boots stuck in the mud and that's the reason why they haven't returned to Haven, yet."

"Unfortunately, that is not the case," Cullen said solemnly. "They are being held hostage by what is most likely the same Avvar you encountered. I...am assuming you _have_ encountered them, yes?"

"Yeah. There were rumors of a plague down there, so I traveled to see  if there was anything I could do--plagues are easy to control once you know the source. Before I could get to the villages, though, the Avvar blocked me off." I then awkwardly scratched behind an ear. "They kind of tried to kill me, so I, uh...you know what? It's not important. Let's just get to figuring out how we're going to get them out."

"That won't be easy," said Leliana. "The chieftain is ordering you to a duel."

"Is it because I'm the Herald of Andraste?"

"Yes."

"Great. I'm going to have to go down there, right? Wait, no, don't answer that. I  _will_ go down there, because there are soldiers who need their Herald to save them." I straightened my back and fixed my eyes on the solid, carved marker that sat on the mire. "If their chief wants a fight, then he'll get one."

"Alaran--Herald," Cullen interceded. " The Avvar are not bandits on the roadside. They're born and bred for battle and lasting harsh winters; are you sure you can take on one, let alone several?"

"Don't mock me," I scoffed. "I can take care of myself just fine. Josephine, prepare a small convoy for the Fallow Mire; I will depart the day after tomorrow."

"Are you certain, my Lady Herald? You only just returned from the Storm Coast. Perhaps some rest would benefit you."

I knew she and the rest were aware of the dark circles under my eyes. They could be passed off as a result of sleep deprivation, but I knew better. Those who were sick looked sick. My appearance would only grow worse as time went on. "Who knows how long the Avvar will wait until they get tired of having the hostages," I replied evenly, steadying my gaze and making everybody in the room aware that I knew what I was doing. "The day after tomorrow, ambassador."

"Very well." Josephine began scribbling down notes on her clipboard. I directed my attention back to the map in its entirety. 

"The situation in Redcliffe is causing an unsettling feeling in my stomach. And you still haven't heard anything about the mages, Leliana?"

"Nothing. It is beginning to trouble me, as well."

"After I return from the mire, that is what we will set our priorities on. Inform the templars who dissent from Lord Seeker Lucius of what is going on; I want them to be prepared to escape Therinfal Redoubt at a moment's notice, if need be. We don't need any more unnecessary casualties than there already are. And Cullen?" 

"Yes, Herald?" 

"You let Bubs eat druffalo meat, didn't you?"

His blush told me everything. I frowned deeply. "You know that druffalo meat gives him constipation, right?"

"I...yes, you made that aware before you left. But the soldiers--"

"As a result of your disobedience," I cut off mightily, "you will be the one to get a laxative from Adan and give the appropriate dose to Bubberston."

"You can't be serious," he deadpanned. 

"Oh, I'm serious. He doesn't fight well when he's binded up, and I'll need him at his best when I take him to the Fallow Mire."

Leliana didn't help the commander's mood when she said in her honey-tongued Orlesian accent, "Chop chop, Cullen."

-

I knew was pushing myself too hard. Weariness had settled in my bones and refused to go away until I was laying in my small bed, hidden away from the world outside. Bubs--who still hadn't gotten his treatment, yet--was curled up beside me, head rested next to my ribs to monitor my breathing should anything serious occur. I took what little relaxation time I had to open Sebastian's letter and read it in the candlelight. My eyesight wasn't poor enough to the point that I couldn't see anything in less-than-bright light. I might as well use it while I still could.

_Herald,_

_I am surprised to hear of the new title you have on your shoulders. ~~It is a good, surprise, however; you are worthy of such~~_

_Maker forgive me, I can't write a formal letter to you whether or not my life depended on it. Alaran, are you alright? My agents say that you now bear the Mark, the same one that stopped the Breach from growing. They also say that you can close it entirely, if help is given. Even from my castle I can see that wretched hole in the far distance. The rifts here are small, yet they are posing problems in some areas. If we did not have the Waking Sea between us, I would urge you to come and close them. If you did so, however, then the rest of Thedas would expect you to do so in their lands as well. I know you like to make yourself out to be indestructible and capable of doing anything, but even that is a feat you cannot accomplish. The best course of action is to close the Breach as fast as you possibly can...though I expect you already had that in mind._

_I must say, I was downright shocked when I received a letter from Master Tethras; for some reason, the dwarf has never taken a liking to me. But he knows an ally when he sees one, and you certainly have an ally in Starkhaven. Though my kingly duties may pose differing views between us further down the road, I will provide you and the Inquisition with all the resources I am able to. Of course, I will send out a formal letter that you can review with your advisers, but until then...just know that your friends are still here. Kirkwall seemed to be so long ago, yet I find myself often drifting to simpler times with Hawke, you, and everybody else who called themselves our compatriots. Though I supposed it was never exactly simple in Kirkwall, was it? Nevertheless, you need only call out to me--to any of us--and we will be there for you. I am almost positive you will bear your mantle as the Herald well, but should there ever be strain underneath it, know that there are others who would give their lives to ease that burden for you._

_How is Ser Bubberston faring? Is he as toxic as ever? I doubt Varric is liking that cold Ferelden weather. Andraste preserve me, but he could truly grate one's ears with his whining. Have you heard nothing from Hawke? Nobody has, apparently. Though I do not pride myself on the abilities of my spies, not even they can pick up a trace of him. He's all but vanished. I can't help but worry. Who knows what that man is getting into without all of us to check on him?_

_It may be just me experiencing a kingly paranoia, but I have a foreboding sense that not everything will return to normal once the Breach is closed. Tread carefully, Alaran. And stay safe._

_Also, do you still have that pineapple I carved you?_

_Sincerely,_  
_Sebastian Vael_  
_~~King of Starkhaven  
~~ Your Friend_

For some reason I started crying. I...I  _missed_ Sebastian. I missed him and Beefcakes and Merrill and Isabela and Fenris and Aveline and Anders and Garrett and Carver and the Feddics. I missed them all, and I was in such a state that I may never see them again. They were my friends, my  _family._ That's who I should be with as my health deteriorated instead of plunging myself into the midst of a crisis that will affect the known world. I should be in the garden of the Hawke estate, drawing or reading while Bubs played with Sandal. I shouldn't be readying my body before I pushed it to its limits as I dived into the treacherous terrain of the Fallow Mire and fighting an Avvar chieftain to rescue soldiers. Though I had taken up great companionship with most of the people who could call themselves the Inner Circle, they weren't my family, not just yet. 

I wanted them to be here, to be with me in my hour of need. They should know about my state, my impending end. But they wouldn't. They would have to know of my death from a letter or an informant, and they would mourn separately. That wasn't how it was supposed to be.

My sides ached as I tried to contain the sobs wracking through my body. Crying with failing lungs was a miserable experience, but it was something I would have to deal with. Bubs moved up so I could bury my face in the groove of his neck, clutching his thick winter pelt with trembling hands. Why,  _why_ was I reacting like this now? Was it because I knew I didn't have enough time to see them again? That I would most likely  _never_ see them again?

I was dying, and I was alone in doing so.

Only when all my tears were shed, stomach sick and lungs shriveling, did I come to an end. It had exhausted me physically and mentally, and I barely had time to draw blankets over my body and blow out the candle on my nightstand before falling into a dreamless, despairing sleep. 

-

"Oi, you alright, Ally?" Sera poked as we rode down the mountain path that took us to the Fallow Mire. "You look a little...fuzzy."

"It's called grogginess," I said, voice hoarse from the morning air. Or at least that was what everybody most likely assumed, I hoped. "Bubs likes to think he's the owner of my bed." My dog gave me a reproachful look from his place beside the horse I was riding. It wasn't the truth, we both knew, but he wouldn't say anything even if he wasn't a highly intelligent animal.

"Psh. Your dog is a friggin' strange one, alright. Gotta quit treatin' 'im like he's human. Mabaris always get high an' mighty when they get everythin' they want."

"Oh? Are you a Mabari expert, now?"

"Shut up," she snickered, leaning over on her horse to give me a punch on the arm. Our postures varied greatly from one another: while mine was that of an experienced rider's--straight back, reins held accurately, heels slightly turned inward--Sera's was slouched, uncaring, and reckless. If her horse was startled at anything at all, she would go flying off the saddle in an instant. Or get her foot caught up in the stirrup and be drug a few hundred yards. 

Still, I let her be. Sera had reflexes fast for even an elf. She would be fine no matter what situation she got herself in. I was just overthinking.

I did that a lot, nowadays. I did it back on Earth, too. Worrying about others made it so I didn't have to worry about what was going on in my own life. My mental state was still recovering from the revolt my mind and heart had against one another two nights ago. An aching misery was entwined within my organs as a result of missing those who I had come to love so dearly. Previously I had pushed that sort of emotional sickness to the back of my mind and smashed it into a small space by distracting myself with hard work, surviving, and seeing the beauty in people, places, and moments. But now...now, it was all coming down.

_You should have told them about who you really are._

A human hiding in an elf's body, a child pretending to be an adult, a scared soul portraying itself as a brave one. 

It was happening all over again. I was going to isolate myself, inject my thoughts and feelings with a numbness that distances myself from the turmoil inside and out.

But did I really want to stop it?

I took to keeping a dark handkerchief with me in case I started coughing up blood. That way if I did I could hide its existence from the others a little while longer. It seemed to settle in the inner pocket of my coat like an anchor. I could just imagine myself trying to fight off demons and close rifts while I hacked up a lung in the small piece of fabric. It was so sad it was almost amusing.

All of the gang decided to come with me on the rescue mission. Sera, Varric, Cassandra, Blackwall, Solas, Vivienne, and Iron Bull. I was grateful to have them with me, however much ache I was dealing myself. They were good people.

Except for the fact that they liked to bicker.

A lot. They even picked fights with  _Bubberston,_ who was a perfect gentleman and refrained from retaliating...during the day. There were a few nights when Vivienne found her shoes filled to the brim with slobber, Sera had her bed roll covered in fur, and Solas...well, there were now several definite chew marks on his staff.

I shouldn't have been shocked to find that the Fallow Mire just made things worse.

It was like being cold and breathing in water at the same time. I was chugging regeneration potions like they were juice to help me breathe, seeing as I didn't have an oxygen tank to lug around or an inhaler to get some puffs from. The only way I got away with drinking as much as I had without drawing attention was the fact that I  _did_ put it in a water skin. Hopefully, nobody would ask to have some of my drink to quench their thirst.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath as we came across the piles of burnt corpses amidst the muck. Harding's warning to me about the undead crawling out from the depths of the mire, but...this. I could have stopped this.

"You had no control over this, Al," Varric said seriously to me, his face twisted into a grimace from the smell. It reminded me of the stenches that clung in the air after the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. "And if you had stayed here, you could have caught whatever it was that caused all these people to get sick."

"I don't get sick," I snapped rashly, unable to stop myself. "These people needed my help and I just turned away because a few Avvar bastards stood in my path. I could have cut them down and continued on, but I didn't because I wanted to preserve _their_ lives, as well. I didn't want to do anything more harmful than I already had, just like typical Alaran Lavellan does." I was confessing everything with a growing snarl or rage. "I could have done  _something._ I could have fucking done something. Fuck it. Fuck it. Just  _fuck it all."_

My foot angrily kicked a piece of charred wood, sending it spinning off into the night and thudding softly on the squishy ground. My accompanying cry was hoarse and ragged.

The outburst caused a silence to befall the group who stood near me. I crouched for a moment, burying my head in my hands as I composed myself. Not only did my impending death weigh on me, but now the countless deaths of innocent lives did, as well.

"Alaran," Varric spoke calmly, crouching and placing a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to tear away from him because _I didn't want to be touched,_ but the jerk-reaction was easily suppressed. He was my family...and I couldn't force myself to be more miserable than I already was. "What do you want me to say to you right now?"

It was a question frequently asked when I had first been raped and went into one of my frantic episodes. Nothing they said ever seemed to help, so eventually Varric said what I needed him to say in a way that was so pure and genuine it usually calmed me down.

"Tell me...tell me that it's not alright, but I need to get back on my feet and save those soldiers. I can't fail any more than I already have."

And as Varric was the storyteller, he took my words and sculpted them into something better. "It may not be settling well right now, but square your shoulders and bear that blade of yours because there are people who need your help.  _Your_ help, Alaran. And your help will never fail those who are lucky enough to receive it."

I sniffed, blinked twice, and stood. Varric followed, his hand placed on my back to support me. It wasn't high enough that he could feel the wheezing in my lungs.

The rain that started to pour down was alive on my skin, streaking and streaming to wash away some of the wounds I held so tightly to to my breast. "Let's go," I commanded to my forming Inner Circle, not expecting a word of dissent or a question of concern. I turned on my heels and started to walk. Bubba trotted up to my side, head held high and eyes alert for any signs of danger. 

This was going to be quick. I would make sure of it.

-

"Herald, you need to rest," Cassandra advised me before we could continue our way through Hargrave Keep. "Gather your strength."

"We all need to," Iron Bull added, great axe propped over a massive shoulder. I had felt his eye on me the entire time, prodding and observing for anything he could find about me. I'm sure he knew of my strange arrival to this world and my affiliation with Hawke, but other than that had to figure me out all on his own. If I showed any sort of weakness, he would see it. Which was  _why_ I had to all of my strength and will to cover it. 

"Five minute break," I responded, driving my greatsword into the ground. 

"Ten," Cassandra said stubbornly. "Five minutes is not enough."

We glared at each other for a few brief moments before I submitted. It wasn't worth wasting my time over. "Fine," I said with a single nod. "Ten minutes it is."

All of us gathered to sit at the foot of the steps. I let my body relax for a few moments, assessing if I had any injuries that should be tended to at the time. I had taken a punch to the ribs by a terror demon when we were lighting the beacons, one of my kneecaps were sore from being hit with energy from a wisp when we were closing a rift with the Sky Watcher (great guy), and my neck ached from being knocked down by a corpse that had come out of nowhere. Its stench had wiped onto my clothes and stayed with me throughout our journey from the mire. But all in all itt was nothing serious, however bad it felt. I pointedly ignored the dull pain in my lungs and focused on keeping my eyes open. Fatigue had settled behind them and tempted me to draw the lids down just for a few moments...

I refrained. Sleep would be allowed when I was done.

To distract myself from the feeling, I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out a piece of parchment paper to examine. It was found tucked underneath a storage box near the Grey Warden tome we found, much to Blackwall's excitement. 

It was an untitled poem, hastily scrawled but fluid and without mistakes. It made my heart clench in melancholy at the same time my musician's soul began to compose a melody to the lyrics. What Grey Warden had sat and wrote this as they heard the Calling sing in their own mind? What was their story before they went through the Joining? What wonderful, amazing artist was lost to the Deep Roads by some hurlock's blade? 

What greatness had this world been deprived of?

I found that my teeth were clenching tightly together as I stared blankly at the hand-written text. All of a sudden I wanted to tear it up until it was nothing more than a particle in the wind. How  _dare_ this Warden have such amazing talent and give it up because it was demanded of them to do so? How could their precious, beautiful life be taken away due to the sacrifice they thought it was worth? 

Even if I tore up the parchment, I would remember everything, right down to the water stains on the corners and the way the writing had a tendency to move upwards. Damn it. Damn it all. 

My legs propelled me upwards. "Herald!" Cassandra protested as I shoved the poem back into my pocket and unsheathed my greatsword. "What are you--"

Her words fell on deaf ears. I was already halfway up the staircase, rage boiling my blood. Why, why,  _why_ did it have to be this way? 

When I saw the Avvar chieftain standing at the the point of the main hall in Hargrave Keep, all I heard was my own ragged roar exploding from my chest. It bounced off the high walls of the hall, mixing in with the thunder and lightning that just  _had_ to make their presence known. The only thing that anchored me to the present situation was the hilt of my greatsword--it was the same as it had been since the day Hawke gave it to me. And it was the same blade that stung my hands as it stood against the warhammer that tried to crush me into the ground. 

Fenris' low, grating voice echoed in my ears as clearly as though I was back in the mansion he was squatting in.  _"Side-step--no, you're not quick enough. Again. Do you_ want  _yourself to be killed? Unsurprising, seeing as your sword tactics would shame most people into their grave. And sweep! Back up! Had this been a real battle I would have lopped off your head. Block! Again! And strike!"_

My blade sunk through the chieftain's gut and exited through his back. I felt it momentarily glance off the vertebrae of his spine before I sliced upwards. Blood poured onto my front and into my mouth. His screams mixed with my own as I finally pulled my sword free when it wouldn't go past his massive breastbone. 

Two other Avvar came at me, but before they could meet for combat one was frozen into a chunk of ice and the other got three arrows embedded in their chest. Chain lightning took out the two archers on the topmost part of the hall. Had it only been fifteen seconds from the time I left to fight and the others catching up? Huh.

It was a struggle to stay on both feet. I used my search for any sort of key to the hostages as a disguise for the weakness in my legs. Crouching on one knee, I bent over and began the process of looting. "What in the Void were you thinking?" Varric demanded to know as he stood beside me. There was a look of slight horror on his face when he saw how much blood I was drenched in. "That was stupid."

"It wasn't one of my brightest ideas, no," I confessed absently as I found what I was looking for. "But it worked, didn't it?" I looked over at the chieftain's weapon still grasped in one of his giant hands. "Bull," I called as I got back to my feet, letting Varric help in hauling me up. "Wanna new weapon?"

"I'll take a look at it," the Ben-Hassrath rumbled as he pried it from the Avvar's dead fingers. "Nice work out there, Boss. If you looked as bad-ass as you do now every day, you'd scare the shit out of every noble you came across."

"That's the plan," I said with a forced smirk. Then I jangled some prison keys. "Let's go find those hostages."

"I think they're over here," Cassandra shouted by a door to the side of the hall. We all gathered once more as I tried each key. It was a small blessing that I was wearing gloves; they hid the small tremors that were running through my body. 

The trembling stopped for a few moments when I saw that all of the soldiers were alive. "I told you she'd come," I heard somebody whisper reverently. "The Herald came for us."

"Is everybody alright?" I simply asked. 

"There are a few injured, but we've suffered no losses." 

Relief, added to a decline of adrenaline, made me nearly collapse with exhaustion. "See that they make it to the nearest camp," I said to nobody in particular, turned, and left to take a seat against the wall. Bubs came to walk beside me, ensuring that I wouldn't collapse mid-walk. 

Cassandra and Vivienne escorted the soldiers out while everybody else separated to look for more Grey Warden artifacts and loot the castle in general. I waved them off when they wanted to stay with me, reassuring that I was fine and just needed to recover from my insane action. If anything should happen, Bubs would be here to protect me.

The main hall had long grown silent when the first hacks started. I stifled them with the handkerchief at first, but they wouldn't, couldn't stop. My whole body shook as the coughs turned to wheezing, then to wet. 

I pulled away to see a dark, sticky stain in the middle of the cloth. "You are dying," somebody stated plainly. I looked up, wiping away the fresh, bloody phlegm with the back of my hand. The Sky Watcher towered over me, eyes fixed on mine instead of the death sentence clutched in my hand.

"Yeah," I whispered. "Yeah, I am."

"Do you wish me to end your life now? It will be an end to your pain."

My laugh was weak. "Nah. I have a few other things to do before the blasted underworld gets my goat." 

"Does the rest of your clan know?"

I gave a single shake of my head. "Only Bubs here does." I patted my Mabari, who rested his head sadly on my lap and gave a soft whine. "Tell me, Sky Watcher, do the Avvar have a cure for cancer? Because I haven't found one in Thedas. At least not yet."

"Is that what you lowlanders call your sickness?"

"Sure." I tried taking a breath and steadying myself. It wasn't entirely successful, but it was enough. "So, you wanna join the Inquisition now? Also, do you wanna carry me out of here? Or at least strap me down to Bubs?"

When the Sky Watcher lifted me off the ground, I felt like I was back in the hospital. It was right after I had tried to sneak out and go to a symphony concert I had been booked to play in. I didn't even make it to the elevator before I collapsed. A male nurse had to carry me back to my bed. A week later I recovered enough from my pneumonia to go back home. Between being busy dying, I had a  _Dragon Age_ game to play.

It had been so long ago. 

"Before that darkness claims my soul, let me see that shred of blue," I breathed to the lightless, raining sky. Dying wasn't my plan, tonight. 

There was still a shred of blue waiting for me.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this chapter have more humor in it, but the major lack of it goes to show how much is going down. And the song that she finds is called "Shred of Blue." It's so beautiful and sad, and I think she can related extremely well to it (also, my username comes from the song). 
> 
> Should I have been working on the final chapter of "Hold On a Second?" Probably. Did I? Nope. Final chapters are hard, guys. 
> 
> Anyways, I love you. You're all great and awesome, and I'd love to hear feedback. Keep being lovely <3


	29. Flashbacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mustaches
> 
> Yeah, you know who I'm talkin' about

Something wasn't right in Redcliffe. The rift I had sealed just outside the gates created pockets of time that were either slower or faster than the rest of the world, Grand Enchanter Fiona didn't remember meeting me in Val Royeaux, and...

And a Tevinter Magister had taken up leadership for not only the town, but the mages as well. His son also had the Blight, just to put the cherry on top.

The only good part of the day was that my body had decided to take a break from killing me. 

I gripped the folded note that had been slipped into my hand as we made our way to Redcliffe's Chantry. "Gereon Alexius," I muttered to myself as we walked. "I should know that name."

"From where?" Blackwall asked, who was near enough by me to hear my ramblings. "We all know just how _experienced_ you are with traveling, but I doubt you'd go to Tevinter."

"No," I said with a slight chuckle. "I heard it years ago. Dammit, I  _know_ that name." Why was my brain being so slow, today? My body was doing alright, so why couldn't it do the same?

"Oh, please tell me you're not one of  _those_ people."

"What do you mean?" I questioned back as I sifted through memory upon memory to try and recollect where the name Gereon Alexius came from. 

"You know, the ones who remember everything." After a pause he added dryly, "The annoying ones."

I smirked briefly. "Hate to break it to you, Blackwall, but I am. Why, I remember what you ate for breakfast the first day we were traveling back together from the Hinterlands. Bacon that was too crispy and some of that gunky mush only Fereldans enjoy eating."

"Now that's just creepy," Sera said, joining in on the conversation. "Why do you wanna even remember shite like that?"

"It's not by choice, "I shot back, "I just do. Blame my brain, not me." I momentarily slowed in my steps as the gears clicked in place. 

_"You should come with me," he spoke over a bowl of leafy greens and tangy sauce straight from Minrathous. It was the only thing he helped with preparing. "Gereon would be willing to take you on as a scribe or consult of some sort, giving the ordeal you had. He has a son about the same age as you, too..."_

"Oh no freaking way," I breathed, then broke into a run up the climbing path to the Chantry. I shouldn't have been running, really. My body's willingness to oblige with my wants hung on a precipice.

"Oi, wait up!" Sera shouted behind me, but I didn't stop until after I had burst through the doors. My hand crackled with energy and I could feel the warp of the Veil as one of the same rifts we had come across earlier shimmered in the air. Below it was a man. Older than I had last seen him, yes, but still ultimately the same. He was currently striking down a shade with quick, brutal blows from his stave. 

When he heard me enter, he began to speak before fully seeing me. "Good! You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?" 

Eyes flitted up and down, trying to comprehend what they were seeing. I smirked and pulled my greatsword out. "Dorian Pavus," I crowed. "It's been  _too long."_

The mage barked an incredulous laugh. "Andraste's tits!  _Alaran?_ Is that--?" A wave rippled from the rift, drawing our attention to the matter at hand. "We'll save greetings for later, hm?"

With the others caught up to me, the fight was fairly short. A few envy demons, shades, and maybe some wisps. I had already closed so many that now everything meshed into a blur. It was only when the rift was ready to be sealed did I gather my attention to a fixed point. 

Crap. The other rift outside the gates wasn't as big, so the side effects of closing it were only a few coughs, labored breathing, and a dull ache in my chest. It all vanished within a moment or two, and then I felt fine. I had briefly worried that closing it would off-set my good day, but I was fortunate enough that it didn't. But  _this_ one...it was big. Bigger than most. And from the way it had more pockets of twisted time than the other, it would most likely be tougher to close.

"Great," I mumbled, sheathing my weapon and taking in one last sanctified breath of air. I then lifted a hand and felt the painful, draining connection between the rift and the Mark. It sapped me of all energy and the strength I had stored in my body to continue experiencing my "nicey nice time." I was surprised I could even close it, with how lamely I pulled my hand away and snapped the tear shut. 

Putting my hands on my knees, I spat up blood and watched as it spattered across the floor. The wheezes that shook my lungs echoed across the Chantry hall. A moment later, strong hands gripped the sides of my waist to keep me from collapsing. "Let it out, Boss," Iron Bull said lowly, calmly. After I had gagged up the rest of the blood still stuck in my throat, he gently bent me upright to help me breath better. I wiped the string that ran from the bottom of my lip down to my chin, aligning itself with my  _vallaslin._

"Thanks, Bull," I said, patting one of his hands with my own. I felt like utter poo, now, and could collapse again at any possible moment. 

"Well isn't that grand," Dorian commented sarcastically as he approached me. "All these questions I have to ask, and you're going to be too dead for me to answer them."

"I'm not dead yet," I managed to smile. The Tevinter masked his worry with a nonchalant wave of his hand. 

"I shouldn't be surprised that you're in the middle of all this," said Dorian as he moved to take a seat on one of the pew. Taking my greatsword off, I followed and sat on the one in front of him. It was a relief to be off my feet. "Do you know how that works, exactly? That mark on your hand?" 

I tugged off a glove and reached over for him to examine. When it wasn't alight with the Fade, the Mark was just a pale, jagged scar running across my palm. "Yes and no," I replied. "It'll be a lot easier to explain when I'm feeling better." I didn't bother to deny my state of health, right then. It was too apparent to ignore. "But what are you doing here, Dorian? What is  _Alexius_ doing here? Last I checked he wasn't trying to control the mages or gain a foothold on some Fereldan town." I paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're not with him, are you?"

"Magister Alexius  _was_ my mentor, yes, but not anymore," Dorian said, his tone taking a darker turn. "There is much that needs to be discussed. The man that has imposed control over the rebel mages is not the same man who was disappointed in not getting to meet you and ask questions about the Fade all those years ago."

"Where's Felix?"

"I'm sure he's on his way. He was to give you the note then meet us here after ditching his father."

"Dorian," I said solemnly, "you know what's wrong with him, don't you?"

"A lingering illness," he replied honestly, unaware of the underlying issue. When I had caught Felix earlier from his feigned stumble, I could feel the taint crawling inside of him, consuming his life force. "Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen, most likely."

I let it be. "So do you want to tell me what's going on? I know you're waiting for applause, but I'm too tired to give it."

"What? No applause? And I had twirled my staff ever-so-spectacularly upon your arrival." I smirked at Dorian's evasive sarcasm, but remained silent to let him transition. "Alright. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius  _distorted time itself."_

The statement hollowly rang in my bones. "He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died," I said slowly, disbelieving of my own words.

"A quick study as always, Alaran," Dorian tutted. 

"Manipulating time itself?" Vivienne repeated with a layer of condescension to her voice. I could hear the fear underneath, however, the same kind that crawled up in the back of your throat and made your limbs feel like they were jelly. "Many have attempted over the ages, but never once succeeded."

"The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe." Dorian stood, too restless to be sitting as he gave us the revelation. "The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world."

"You wouldn't know this much if you weren't a part of it," I said seriously. Dorian fidgeted before sighing and giving a nod.

"Yes. I helped develop the magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work." He folded his arms and contemplatively put a hand under his chin. "What I don't understand is why he's doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"

"He didn't do it for them."

Heads turned to see Felix Alexius step out of the shadows of the Chantry and approach us. How could the others not see the Blight growing inside him? How could they not  _feel_ it?

"Took you long enough," Dorian huffed to the magister's son. "Is he getting suspicious?"

"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day." Felix gave a nod to me in acknowledgement before launching into a sorely needed explanation. "My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves "Venatori." And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you."

I was too exhausted to say the questions that came to mind, so all I said was, "All this for me? And here I didn't get Alexius anything."

Dorian's smirk crooked his mustache. "Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those." The smirk then faded as quickly as it came. "You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. But I'm assuming you already came to that conclusion, yes?" I nodded. "Good. Now, I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there."

"So you'll be heading to Haven?" I drawled, hope budding in my stomach. Dorian sighed heavily, as if a great burden was on his shoulders.

"I suppose so, yes. Please tell me that the only food there isn't snail."

"Nah, we have nug, too."

Dorian rubbed his forehead. A pained expression encompassed his face. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Of course not, Master Pavus. You'll love the Inquisition."

"Surely you're not thinking of letting a...a Tevinter join?" Cassandra blurted passionately. She was standing far enough away that her outline was blurred a smidge. "Who knows what he will do? Where his allegiances lie? The knowledge he possesses could be a danger to the Inquisition."

Before I could give a calm reply, Dorian snorted. "You're suspicious of  _me?_ That's quite amusing, considering the knowledge that your Herald has. Or have you simply chosen to ignore the small fact of...?" He looked back to me and saw the expression I was wearing.  _They don't know,_ I said silently.  _For the love of all that's holy, Dorian, shut up before I get myself thrown in a dungeon cell and interrogated!_

"Ah," he said brusquely, clearing his throat. "Never mind. But not to worry; my allegiances lie with all things fine and luxurious. What Alexius is planning to do will surely take what I hold _most dear_ away." Dorian began to make his way to one of the side doors in the Chantry. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Alaran. I can't wait to catch up. Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than dying, Dorian," Felix said too quietly for his friend to hear. Before he could depart himself, I leaned my head over to the others who were waiting for me. 

"Hey, you guys, why don't you go and wait outside for me? I'll only be a few minutes."

"But--" Cassandra began to argue, but was silenced by the look I gave her. The others didn't try to argue, so they reluctantly left my divine presence and stepped past the boundaries of the Chantry.

Then it was just the two of us. I beckoned him over, and scooted so he could take a seat next to me. "I must admit, Herald," he said with such a pleasant tone of voice it was hard to tell if he was joking, "I never thought I would be praying with you."

I barked a laugh. "Oh, no, I'm not one to pray much. Sorry to disappoint."

"I'll get over it, in time."

Another laugh, but this one was fading. I fixed my gaze on the statue of Andraste stationed at the front of the hall and propped an arm up on the edge of the pew. "How long have you been sick?"

"A few months, now," Felix replied softly, barely skipping a beat. "How did you know?"

"I've seen the signs in a few of the clinics I've worked in."

"Or is it because of all the time you spent in the Fade?"

A short puff of air escaped my nostrils, but I didn't bother to smile. "I'm assuming Dorian mentioned me to you, all those years ago?"

"He still talks about you, sometimes. 'I wonder what ever happened to that Alaran Lavellan. Maker, what I wouldn't do to get inside her brain and pick apart everything that occurred.'" Felix pulled off a good imitation of Dorian. That made the corner of my lip tug upwards. 

We continued to stare at Andraste. "I can sense what others cannot, yes. Whether it be from the Fade or the Blighted material I was exposed to for so long, though, I can't tell."

"And you? How long have you got?"

I was silent, which allowed Felix to go on. "I look in the mirror every day and see death. Looking at you is nearly the same. It's slow, but it's there. Right underneath your skin."

"I'm supposed to be the observant one in this conversation, not you," I mildly protested. My lips pursed before I answered. "But to answer your question: I'm not sure. Maybe a couple more months. Maybe less. I just need to seal the Breach. That's as far as I can go." Finally, I turned my head to Felix and looked at him. "Unlike me, however, there is an alternative for you. Seek out the Grey Wardens. Go through the Joining."

"A Tevinter mage fighting the very thing that his predecessors created. Yes. I'm sure that would go smoothly."

"It will give you a chance of life, a chance to make a difference."

"And what if I don't want to be a Warden?"

"Then you'll live out the rest of your days in the best manner that suits you. I ultimately have little say in your decision. What I _am_ saying is that there are other options."

"I doubt I would even be able to find a Grey Warden," Felix sighed. "They've all but disappeared, haven't they?"

"I'm sure you could find some in the Free Marches. There are Deep Roads entrances there, and darkspawn are always trying to find a way to get a foothold on the surface." I shrugged my shoulders and moved to stand. Felix followed suit, lending me a hand for support. I felt a little better, but should we face any more rifts or bandits I would be utterly helpless. It was a struggle to even loop the strap on my greatsword over my shoulder. "The choice is yours, Felix." We clasped hands in farewell. "Whatever you pick will be the right one."

"Are you sure you're not a prophet of Andraste? You sure sound like you are."

"Very funny," I said, smirk twisting wryly. "It was an honor too meet you, Felix Alexius."

"And you as well, Serah Lavellan."

-

My hand was sore from writing letters. Several, in fact. One to Sebastian, Fenris, Anders, Aveline, Isabela, Merrill, Carver, Hawke, and Varric. To my family. 

I set them in an easy place to find in my drawer, so that when I died they could be found and delivered to their appropriate places. All of them contained...personal information that I would rather remain sealed until the time was right. 

Bubs lay on the floor, looking all sorts of depressed. He wasn't taking my illness too well. I sighed and crawled to the ground, laying myself on top of him. "Don't be like that, mister," I said, taking his ears between my fingers and rubbing them. "I know it's hard, but...you'll have a lot of other people to take care of you." 

He huffed inconsolably. "Like Varric." 

A miffed grunt. "And Josephine. She'll give you plenty of treats. Or Cullen. He loves you as if you were his own dog."

Bubs tore his ears free of my grasp and planted his head back on the ground. I grumbled and latched onto him, burying my head in his odorous neck. "You're a baby, you know? It--"

I was thrown off of the Mabari as he stood upright. "Ow," I whined as I rubbed an elbow. "I didn't know you would be so...offended..." My dog bolted to the door and began to scratch impatiently at it. I stood and grabbed my coat off the back of the chair I was sitting in, brows furrowing as I tried to understand what was going on. It wasn't like Bubs to panic.

This wasn't about me. 

I opened the door and stepped out into the cold night air. I tended to stay indoors past sundown; breathing in the frigidity took a toll on my lungs. But whatever Bubba was freaking out about was most likely something important, and though he was smart he was still a dog, so not as many people listened to him like I did. 

My hand grasped his collar, partially for support and partially for guidance. I had no idea where he was going, so all I could do was hang on and hope for the best.  

We went down to the very bottom tier of the settlement, right to the row of cabins that sat lower near the lake. I soon began struggling to breath, which produced a whine from Bubs. Yet he still pressed on, and I still followed. 

Bubba finally stopped at a cabin I was familiar with. His high-pitched bark made me realize that whatever was going on inside, whatever was _happening..._ was very wrong. Letting go of his collar, I rapped my knuckles on the door. The cabin was alight with candles that I could see flickering from the window, so that meant somebody  _must_ be inside. "Cullen?" I called hoarsely as I knocked. "Are you there? Cullen?"

No answer. My heart rate spiked, and my ears twitched as they strained to hear anything from within. "Cullen Stanton Rutherford," I breathed shakily, "if you don't open this door, I'm going...I'm going..." I didn't finish my sentence, and instead twisted the door's knob and stepped in. 

When I saw Cullen lying lifeless on the ground, my mind went into hyperdrive. All at once I grew numb to my own infirmities, saw the small trail of vomit on the floor that led to where he lie, and noticed the small trickle coming from the corner of his mouth. 

I rushed over and turned him onto his side. It was fortunate that he wasn't wearing any of his armor, because that made me able to slap him sharply between the shoulder blades. That did the trick, and Cullen ejected the blockage in his throat. He coughed and gasped for air while I rubbed his back. Bubs pitched in with the relief effort, too, and began cleaning up the mess. It was at times like these that I had to remind myself just  _why_ I didn't like him licking me. Not that it ever stopped him before, but...ugh.

It was a while before Cullen came to his senses. When he began to try and look around, I helped him into an upright position, making sure that he wasn't laying flat in case he felt the need to vomit again. "Hey, there," I said with a small smile as Cullen rested his gaze on me. "Let's get you up and into bed, yeah?" 

He started to tremble violentl, but gave a nod. I didn't let him see the frown etched deeply onto my lips as I helped him over to the mattress. "There ya go," I said as I eased Cullen in. I felt my own body shaking from the exertion but chose to ignore it. My friend needed my help, and so I would give it. 

"Bubs," I called lowly as I pressed my hand to Cullen's forehead and cheeks. "Go get me my medicine bag. The one in the corner. You know where it is. I think I forgot to shut the door on the way out, so you should be fine. If it's closed, though, get Seeker Pentaghast to open it for you. She would know the situation."

My dog gave an affirmative grunt and pushed through the door. I followed up behind and shut it so no cold air could creep in. Then I set to work with what was available. There was a basin of water that had been cooled by the window it sat next to. I searched around in Cullen's drawers, looking for a washcloth or rag that could get wet and placed on his forehead. As I was searching, though, I found a small little box I had seen too many times on templars to count. Hesitantly, I opened it up and saw several small, unused vials of lyrium lined in their designated places, along with all the tools necessary to directly get the stuff into the bloodstream or system without drinking it. I should have been more aware, more alert. From the very beginning I knew, Maker  _I knew,_ yet I did nothing, asked nothing. 

I snapped the box shut and found a wash rag suitable for use. I bundled it up in my hand and carried the basin over to Cullen. It was one of the many times I wished I had magic; right now I could be healing or helping in some way. Yet all I had were my own two hands, one marred and both quaking from sickness coursing through my body. 

Cullen gave a small sigh as a cloth was placed on his forehead. I wished they had straws in Thedas; that way I could have him stay hydrated by sipping on water through it. But I had to make do with what I had. That was how it had always been.

"A...Alaran," the commander mumbled as I gently stroked his mess of damp, wild curls. "You...don't..."

"Quiet, you," I said tenderly. "I'm staying right here, and I'm going to take care of you. I've dealt with lyrium withdrawals before. I know what I'm doing. You're going to be alright."

Bubs soon came back with my medicine bag. I opened the door for the Mabari to let him in and began to sift through herbs, spices, bandages, potions, and tonics to get what I needed. I gulped down a regeneration potion myself so I could keep going. Tonight wasn't just going to be an "I'll dope you up with medicine and be on my way" kind of night. It was more along the lines of "intensive care until it was for sure that the patient wouldn't go into a coma or die." 

Prophet's laurel did wonders for templars, for some reason. I was also lucky enough to have dawn lotus on me, which I concocted along with a few other ingredients to create a potent drink that would significantly reduce the worst of Cullen's fever. Once that was taken care of, the body usually returned to normal. Aside from the mind, of course. That was always the last thing to come to in an episode like this. Just how many had he had prior? What would have happened if Bubs hadn't sensed something was off with his weird, dog foresight?

I didn't want to think about the possibilities. Instead I propped Cullen up enough so he could take a drink of the potion. I felt his shirt stick to his body from perspiration as I kept him upright, and briefly contemplated switching it out for a new one. In both of our current states, though, that feat wouldn't prove successful. 

The doses of drink were given three more times over the next two hours. And after that, when it was easier for him to sit up, I made him drink lots and lots of water. It required multiple trips to the privy closet, but Bubs and I were able to help him get there. Private parts, for me, became just a simple part of the anatomy over the course of years I had spent examining both men and women for numerous ailments, injuries, diseases, and births. Not only that, but every bodily fluid that came out of people became just another part of life. So when Cullen dozed off and didn't realize he was releasing all that liquid I had poured down his throat, I didn't mind. I wouldn't be able to get him out of bed, but I was able to pull the dirtied sheets off and lump them in a corner to be washed. 

Then came the hard part. No doubt it was probably very uncomfortable to be sitting in soiled trousers, but...this was  _Cullen._ My friend, my adviser, the Commander of the Inquisition. He probably wouldn't like it if I stripped him of his britches and saw his nether regions, even if it was so he didn't get a rash or further stain his mattress. It may or may not just mortally wound him...

_If_ he found out. Right now the former templar was in a state of feverish slumber. He wouldn't remember, right?

Downing another regeneration potion as if it would give me actual energy, I got a pair of underwear from Cullen's drawer and began to go to work. There was no blushing schoolgirl reaction, no lingering gaze on anything specific--just me doing what should be done. And because of that, I got Cullen changed in no time. I didn't bother to put trousers on; they would prove too difficult to maneuver and would have to be stripped and washed along with the other if the same accident were to happen again. 

I was keeping myself awake by reorganizing my medicine bag when Cullen came to. Bubs anxiously placed his head next to Cullen's hand and gave a soft whine. I turned from where things were laid out on the desk and crossed the room to sit beside him. "Hey," I said quietly, "how're you feeling?"

"Wretched," Cullen croaked. "I...I don't understand. How did you know?"

"Thank Bubs. He has these weird senses that know when somebody is in trouble," I replied, patting my Mabari on the noggin. Cullen weakly extended a finger to his snout, which was lovingly sniffed before there was a small lick.

I hid my grimace when I remembered all that went into the dog's mouth. "Alaran," I heard Cullen whisper hoarsely. I looked up from Bubs and back to the commander.

"Hm?" I prompted. Cullen had his eyes closed, and there was a twist to his lips. The same kind of twist that appeared to keep tears at bay.

"Please, go. I cannot...I'm not in the right state of mind. You shouldn't see me like this." His voice cracked. 

"I'm not going anywhere. Not until I think you're going to be fine by yourself," I answered firmly. "It's okay. We're friends, remember? You're not the commander, not right now."

"Friends," he snapped in a quavering voice. "How could friends ignore the atrocities of the Gallows until one of their own was in there? How could...I knew of your disappearance, yet I did nothing.  _Nothing._ Until it was too late." A tear trickled out of the corner of Cullen's eye. "The  _worst part_ of it was that you  _smiled_ at me in that cell, as if it were all right. As if it wasn't my fault."

And then he was the templar in the Circle, broken and confused and with little sense of reality. I held his hand, because it was all I could do. No matter how many potions I made him drink or wet rags I applied to his forehead, I couldn't aid his mind, his thoughts.

It still broke my heart. "And Maker, I  _ran away,"_ Cullen continued, openly weeping. "I was too ashamed and I pretended that it didn't happen. That none of it was  _happening._ But it was, and I was just another part of it. It took one of my own  _friends_ to be in there for me to see just what had been happening for years." He drew in a ragged breath and put a hand to his eyes in an attempt to control the tears that flowed. "Maker, forgive me."

I pressed his hand to my forehead and closed my eyes, drawing in air through lungs that would not expand. I couldn't sing, no, but I knew what to say. Call it a divine revelation.

In a hoarse voice, I began to recite. Chant.

_"O Maker, hear my cry:_  
_Guide me through the blackest nights._  
_Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked._  
_Make me to rest in the warmest places. "_  
  
_O Creator, see me kneel:_  
_For I walk only where You would bid me._  
_Stand only in places You have blessed._  
_Sing only the words You place in my throat."_

Cullen began to still, sobs subsiding. I didn't stop, and instead scrunched my brows together as I recollected the words from the Canticle of Transfigurations. I had read the entire Chant of Light a while ago out of curiosity and a desire to understand the Andrastian faith more, but I had worked with enough Chantry sisters in the clinics to hear canticles recited with faith and fervor. It was the prayer Andraste said to the Maker before the siege of Minrathous. I found it a fitting thing to say, seeing as Cullen was fighting a war all on his own. A war with insurmountable odds.  
  
_"My Maker, know my heart:_  
_Take from me a life of sorrow._  
_Lift me from a world of pain._  
_Judge me worthy of Your endless pride._  
  
_My Creator, judge me whole:_  
_Find me well within Your grace._  
_Touch me with fire that I be cleansed._  
_Tell me I have sung to Your approval._  
  
_O Maker, hear my cry:_  
_Seat me by Your side in death._  
_Make me one within Your glory._  
_And let the world once more see Your favor._  
  
_For You are the fire at the heart of the world,_  
_And comfort is only Yours to give."_

Silence blanketed the inside of the cabin. Cullen had his eyes closed and was taking steadying breaths as his lower lip trembled. I took my free hand and gently patted the wet rag on his forehead to make sure it was still cool. I had the sudden, fiery urge to just tell him about the sickness pulling my body closer to death with each passing day, to tell him who I was and where I came from, to just be  _honest_ with him. Yet...

Yet. That world sprinkled my reasoning so often it seemed to be embedded in my soul. There was little possibility that it would ever be purged.

"I had a crush on you back in Kirkwall, you know," my patient suddenly blurted. I let a soft smile curve my lip upwards. Cullen, too, was smiling weakly to himself. His eyes were still shut. "Maker, you were frightening, that day in the alienage. Then all of a sudden you...you were so kind. Despite your heartbreak, you..." More tears fell gently, streaking down gaunt, unshaven cheeks. The smile remained, however. "And your hat...I'd find myself looking every day on the streets for it, flopping up and down."

"Remember when I kissed you all over the face when you had my lute repaired?" I asked, the memories sweetening my demeanor. "The blush on you could be seen from a mile away." My head tilted a fraction. "You know, now that I think of it, I had a crush on you, too. That geode I gave you before I left for the Deep Roads...it was a token of a sort. I didn't know what I was thinking. I just found it while scavenging one of those coastal caves and thought of you when I picked it up." I gave my head a shake as I reminisced my thought process when I was nineteen years old. 

"Do you still have it? The geode? The half that I gave you?"

"Yeah, but it's back in Kirkwall. Along with the rest of my little legacies." I removed the rag and dipped it in the water basin once more, giving it a twist with hands that had trouble moving. "And you? Do you still have your half?"

"It's in the drawer of my nightstand," Cullen admitted with a light huff. He seemed to be regaining a better grasp of himself, it seemed. 

"What a sentimentalist," I drawled teasingly. "You know, it's--"

Amber eyes, bloodshot and exhausted, snapped open. He turned his head to me to give a broken, despairing look. "Why didn't you know?" he whispered in a state of half-delirium. 

I refrained from withdrawing myself. "Didn't know what?" I repeated with genuine concern. 

"Why didn't you know what was going to happen to Kirkwall? To the Chantry? To the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

What had been that lie I told all those years ago?  _"I see things, Cullen,"_ I remembered saying in order to cover my ass.  _"That's why I knew what was going to happen with Meredith."_

It had never once crossed my mind that Cullen would remember. But of course he had, because who wouldn't? People just didn't  _forget_ somebody confessing to them that they had minor visions of the future. 

"I..." I began, but was at a loss for words. My mind was feeling sluggish, and a headache was coming on. 

Stupid cancer.

"You knew, didn't you?" he whispered, horror in his gaze.

I levelly stared back at him, veneer built a mile high in the sky. "If I had, what difference would it have made? Nobody listened to me. Not before I got the Fade on my hand. And do you think I believed it myself?" 

Cullen opened his mouth to argue, but after a moment cast his eyes down in guilt."I...you're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My life is weird. Weird causes suspicion. It's something I've dealt with the first day I arrived in Kirkwall." 

"Ah. I remember that."

I snickered. "Gosh, I was such an asshat. I can't believe I threatened you before I even knew where I was. Hey, remember when you called me Booster Seat?"

"You called me Noodle Head," Cullen said, amusement finding its way into his voice. "I was justified. Do...do you have a scar from that wound?"

"What, the one on my thigh? Yeah. Goes nearly all the way across."

"It was bleeding so much. What had attacked you...?" He started to drift, back to the Gallows and back to pain.

 "Hey," I called tenderly, "stay here."

"Why?"

"Because this is where your friends are."

"...Alaran?"

"Hm?" 

"Will you keep me awake? I can't...the dreams..."

"I'll keep you up as long as I can, Rutherford."

When I got back to my cabin, he was going to get a letter with the rest, too. He deserved as much.

-

Just before I awoke, I had been trying to repair the Fade around me. It was in cracks, shards, ruptures. I called for Wisdom, but she could not reach me. There were too many gaps that stood in the way of her crossing.

Not even demons poured out of the blackness that came forth in the breaks. There was nothing, nothing, nothing.

My headache hadn't gone away when I sat up from my spot at the bottom of Cullen's bad. I couldn't recollect crawling onto it and tucking myself against the frame, but it was better than trying to fall asleep on the chair and winding up on the floor. I had no blanket, though, and thus opened my eyes to immediately feel cold biting at my clothes and skin. 

Cullen, from what I could tell, was sleeping soundly. After sharing endless stories of small moments in Kirkwall, he dozed off and didn't resurface. I stayed up a bit longer, just to make sure he wasn't going to jolt upright screaming and thrashing. But with Bubs jumping on the bed to lay at the commander's side, the last of the storm had been thwarted. 

I sat up, joints creaking and popping. There was a crick in my neck from sleeping so oddly, but I rolled my head from side to side a few times to loosen it up a bit. Perhaps that was why the headache persisted; all of the tension in my body was causing repercussions. 

Or I could fear the worst.

Wait, the worst was  _already_ happening. My lungs were being taken over by cancerous cells. Ha! Silly me.

I left Bubs to sleep with his curly-haired companion and quietly put on my coat. It still had the faint scent of pine oil, but I needed to bat some silver eyelashes at Varric so he could reapply some more. Perhaps I would do that after the meeting in the War Room, today. Leliana always crinkled her nose at the smell, though, so  _maybe_ I could do it before...

My breath left me as I stepped out into the frosty morning air. Spring was just around the corner in most parts of the world, but not here in Haven. Snow would most likely be on the ground until Cloudreach. 

I looked around for any signs of life, but there were none. Not even the Inquisition soldiers were up this early. It gave me the chance to brace against the side of Cullen's cabin wall and steady myself. One arm propped itself up while the other rubbed my forehead. A bout of dizziness had washed over me, making my empty stomach churn. Moments later a soft moan escaped past my lips as I felt a sudden bout of nausea come on. Scrambling between Cullen's cabin and the one residing next to it, I made my way into the thin array of trees that stood strong against the cold. 

The vertigo overwhelmed me, and I dropped to my knees just as hot bile rushed to my throat. I spat it out, grimacing at how much it burned. It set off a coughing fit, one which truly terrified me. It would only make me even more sick to my stomach, and if I couldn't stop when I threw up I would aspirate it into my already shot-to-hell lungs. I had done it once before, when I had a bout of pneumonia, and it was worse than any torture imaginable.

I tipped to the side, unable to stop the world from spinning me down into the snow. More bile came up, bringing a string of bloody phlegm with it. I convulsed one, two times, as what little inside of me was expelled. Tears from the severity of it all leaked from my eyes, and I let out small, pitiful noises as I lay there dying. 

The cancer was advancing. _Quickly_. And before I could slip away, I needed to close the Breach. In order to do that, I needed to get the mages. Alexius stood in the way of it all. 

How could I possibly survive through all of that without my body giving out on me? Had yesterday been my last  _good_ day?

_"Alaran."_

My eyes widened in panic as I instantly recognized the voice. I didn't dare look at who had discovered my lying limply in the snow, surrounded by my own sick. 

Solas.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly wasn't going to have Solas be the one to find Al, but...the drama. It got the best of me. 
> 
> Also, yay for Dorian. I needed him in my life. And in my personal opinion, Cullen needed more than a couple of cutscenes to display his battle with recovering from a lyrium addiction. I was replaying Origins and we were in Arl Howe's keep and there's that one templar you come across who is in the stages of lyrium withdrawal. Alistair lists a few of the symptoms being weepiness and disorientation, or something like that. And I know I put in a short little snippet of Al from the original "Wait, What?" stumbling upon him during one of his episodes, but not with the background like the two have in S&RE, and not with the medical skills she's picked up (as well as the sickness). 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys are staying as lovely as can be.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	30. Poor Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas doesn't take things well.

The Fade was rich with spirits, tonight. They flitted around Solas and Wisdom, content to wander and weave around the two older presences rather than approaching them directly. He was discussing the Inquisition, as usual, when his friend stopped in her tracks and snapped her head to the left. Wisdom's sudden movement made Solas pause in both steps and speech. He watched as her brows drew together and lips formed into a thin line.  _"Ma falon?"_ he prompted quizzically, wondering what she was sensing. 

"It's..." Wisdom began, then faltered. She rarely did such a thing unless there was an immediate cause for concern.  _"Ir abelas, Solas._ I have to go."

Her abrupt need to depart only made him more curious. "What troubles you?" he questioned, head tilting a fraction. 

Several emotions passed over the spirit's face. Anxiety. Fear. Reluctance. Submission. Honesty. Fear again. "Alaran. She's...calling for me, but I cannot feel her, not entirely. It's as if...it's as if she's disjointed, separated from the Fade yet in it at the same time. Solas, I must go to her and see what is wrong."

After a pause, he gave a nod to allow Wisdom to leave in grace. He watched as she left, stilling himself for three, four heartbeats, then quietly followed the familiar trail she imprinted on the Fade. It wasn't hard; Wisdom's preoccupied mind made it so she didn't take the precautions one normally would if they wished to be hidden and unseen in the world of dreams.

The Fade shifted around Solas, blurring and swirling until he could see Wisdom in the distance. She was unaware of his presence, and so he continued to tread lightly enough so she wouldn't know he was observing.

No.

Spying.

Guilt blossomed in Solas' chest. This was wrong. Alaran had explicitly told him to stay far away from her when she dreamed, and so he did. Her words still stung sharply enough the last time they encountered in the Fade that he didn't dare face it again. And after that, their interactions had been curt, proper, cold. Even as they sat near the campfire together on the nights away from Haven, the way she spoke to him wasn't the same as the way they conversed all those years ago. There were no flashing smirks, no lingering gazes. She didn't exaggeratedly use her hands as she told him one of her stories or express an opinion, eyes widened for extra effect. Nothing.

_She should have been dead._

The second Solas thought that statement he sucked in a sharp breath. If he had faith in anybody to use their newfound position of power wisely, it was Alaran. She accepted the role readily, unlike so many others would have. There had been no tears--at least not publicly--no dissent, no hesitation. Even in the way she walked was sound and lasting; eyes followed her not because of the Mark, not because she was the Herald. They recognized a leader when they saw one, even if it was at a subconscious level. 

He remained as silent and nondescript as possible, knowing how unpleasant the wrath of Wisdom would be if he was discovered. From afar, he saw the ancient spirit lift her hands, as if she was reaching out for somebody.  _"Ma halani..."_ a familiar voice echoed distantly. "Wis,  _ma halani!_ I can't reach you!"

"I'm trying!" Wisdom spoke hastily. "Where are you,  _da'vhenan?"_

"Here...or at least I'm trying to be here!" Alaran responded faintly. "You're far away, but I can  _feel_ you. What the hell is going on?"

"I do not know. I have never experienced something like this." Wisdom spread her aura throughout the area. Solas backtracked even further so she wouldn't sense him in the midst. "It's...it's as if your mind is not allowing you to...Alaran, what has spread? Are you sure it would continue down to your liver?" She paused, tensed and trying to hear a reply. "Alaran? Are you here, Alaran? Alaran?" The spirit continued to search, letting herself revert to her most base form in order to spend more energy searching for her friend. She soon disappeared from the section of the Fade they both inhabited, leaving Solas alone with his thoughts. 

A twinge of anxiety made him frown. What had Wisdom spoken of? What was supposed to be spreading to Alaran's liver? 

And what did that have anything to do with a broken connection to the Fade?

Solas sifted through his expanse knowledge. One could not enter the Fade if they were a dwarf--which Alaran was not. Despite having no mage abilities, her awareness and ability to manipulate dreams made her an enigma. He had come to the conclusion that though she didn't possess any magic--and had a resilience to it, no less--Alaran must have been tethered to it in some way. To have that tether disrupted must have meant something.

But what?

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Any involvement in Alaran's private affairs would be most...unwise. He could already feel the steel that was her tongue mortally wound him. It would be best to withdraw and pretend he had never seen anything. Unassuming and polite, just as it always was when Solas conducted himself in the Waking World. 

Solas acted on his better judgement and withdrew, moving back to where Wisdom had left him in the first place. He immersed himself in the enjoyment of the other spirits to distract his thoughts from the worry that gnawed at his stomach. If anything were to happen to Alaran, the structure of the Inquisition would fall apart. They all relied on her, himself included. She was being pulled apart every which way, little by little, and yet she kept herself whole and firm. What had Thedas done to deserve a woman such as she?

He somewhat started when Wisdom appeared suddenly before him. She was flickering and weak, her form trembling from exhaustion. "Solas," she breathed. "You have to wake up. I fear that...that Alaran is in danger."

"Danger from what?" he inquired stiffly, trying to mask the strain in his voice. "Her own wit? I had assumed it would--"

 _"Da'len,"_ Wisdom chastised sharply. His mouth audibly snapped shut. "Go."

And since she was the embodiment of wisdom, Solas thought it best to heed her instructions.

-

Alaran should, by all means, have been in her cabin. Or at least that was Solas thought as he silently walked through Haven. There were most likely guards posted by the gates, but nobody within the small settlement was up. And for good reason, too. The sun was still a few hours away from rising, and only the faintest light was crawling past the gaping jaws of the Frostback Mountains. 

He cast a spell of warmth over his body to keep his teeth from chattering. Varric had been right; this was, in lack of better terms, the ass-end of Thedas. For the Inquisition, however, it was a good place to start. Even if the snow was still leg-deep in some areas.

Solas gave a curt sigh before knocking three times on Alaran's door. Her dog would most likely be the wall between the two of them, standing staunch and immovable until his owner told him otherwise. The worst of it was that the Mabari didn't  _hate_ Solas; he just saw right through him, and that caused emotions along the lines of disgust and disapproval. It was degrading enough that Solas had to deal with such feeling from Alaran; to receive it from her hound was...

There was no answer. He knocked again, this time softly calling out,  _"Lethallan?"_ If she was asleep, Bubba would have at least been making noises. Solas tried once more, using a level of volume. His force made the door creak open, revealing that it hadn't been latched shut in the first place.

Odd.

Forgiveness would be sought after he knew if Alaran was inside. Bracing himself for the worst, Solas slowly pushed the door inward with the flat of his hand. A smell of lavender wafted to his nose, bringing back aching memories. But the elf that accompanied the scent was absent, as well as her odorous hound who did  _not_ smell like the rich purple flower. There was only a made bed, a greatsword that sat in the corner, a desk with a cold candle sitting atop it, and a small dresser with a drawer slightly ajar. 

Where could she be?

A spark of fear ignited in Solas' stomach, sending heat creeping up the back of his throat. Stepping out of the cabin to look for any signs as to where she could be, he easily caught a pair of fresh tracks, one two-legged while the other four. The animal pair seemed to have gone back and forth multiple times, whereas Alaran's footprints only went one way. Following the clue, Solas wound up descending to the base of Haven. It was where most of the Inquisition's soldiers resided, many of them bunking up three or four to a cabin in order to conserve space. 

Stars twinkled in the sky, slowly succumbing to the grayness of the approaching dawn. If it wasn't for Solas' eyesight, he wouldn't have seen the footprints leading down to a certain cabin. Though he didn't know where what seemed to be the forming Inner Circle slept individually, he had passed by Commander Cullen's cabin enough times to know that was where the  once-templar lived. The tracks ended at his doorsteps. It was dark inside, but faint smoke from the chimney implied the fact that there were people within.

Ah.

Fear turned to anger, then to mild irritation. Being close to somebody who still possessed templar abilities would have an adverse affect when reaching the Fade. Or that was what he assumed, at least. It was one without any evidence or prior observances, but Solas  _did_ know that Alaran wasn't in danger. She may have been frightened with the new occurrence, one which Wisdom was even concerned about, but...

They had known each other in Kirkwall, fought and laughed together. It was reality, unlike the story he and Alaran elaborated in order to hide their intertwining pasts. They...deserved each other.

Solas didn't know why he was reacting at all. It had been years for Alaran since she had last seen him--and it was a fact he thought he had accepted. Perhaps it was merely due to him being overly-anxious about the whole circumstance. 

A puff of steam rolled past his lips as his ears slightly flattened against the sides of his skull. There were a few hours of sleep he could catch, given he miss breakfast. Later he could--

The door to Cullen's cabin opened silently, and an elf with disheveled, braided white hair stepped through. The coat that had been Master Tethras' was clung tightly against her, held in place by a porcelain hand that looked almost gray. Solas instinctively stepped back into the shadows. Her eyes faintly reflected in the dark as she looked around for any signs of life, squinting as she did so. He should leave before she saw him. The ensuing confrontation would be highly uncomfortable. 

Before Solas could turn, however, he caught Alaran bracing herself against the wall of the cabin and bringing a hand weakly to her forehead. He waited, watching with bated breath, before she made a noise and dizzily staggered through the space of Cullen's cabin and another nestled beside it. Her feet drug behind her, laboring under her weight.

It was all Solas could do to not break into a run. The stone that settled in his stomach kept him from moving his legs any faster. He...was not sure if he wanted his world shattered. But to simply ignore what he had seen would be to go against his morals and values. Not that Alaran would ever concede to him that he  _had_ any.

Slipping past the gap between the two dwellings, Solas brushed past the narrow, lanky pine trees that dotted the landscape and followed the sound of somebody falling into the snow. Before he could turn around or search longer, he found Alaran.

The sight was as terrifying as Solas first feared it would be.

The Herald, the beacon of hope for everybody in Thedas, was curled on her side, vomiting blood and bile between wet, ragged hacks. Small whimpers of pain came from the pauses in between. Solas should have rushed to her side, sat her up in a better position,  _anything._

But he only stood there, too stiff to move. His face was void of any mask and stretched thin with horror. 

_Are you sure it would continue down to your liver?_

Solas should have known. Alaran had spoken about it enough times for him to have a grasp of its symptoms, side effects of the cure, and...the results.

_"It's all a crock of shit, I'm telling you," Alaran drawled as she lay with her back against the stone bench. A bluebell twirled lazily between her fingers. She thought Solas was looking at the flower in her hand, when in truth he was gazing at her porcelain arm, the bob of her throat, the angle of her jaw, the small tip at the end of her nose. "My lungs were fire, my throat was fire, my bones were fire, everything..."_

_"Fire?" he finished. She snorted and gave a nod._

_"Yeah. So as bad as you think my life may seem, it's great compared to the one I once had." Alaran shuddered exaggeratedly. "The chemo, radiation, the_ failing lungs and liver... _it was one biiiiiig crock of shit. And not, like, the single-person crock pot either. The family-sized one. The one they use for catering events."_

_"How long did you have before...?" Solas began, but couldn't finish._

_Alaran readily answered. "About a couple of months--with the chemo. Without it? Weeks."_

_"Were you going to remain on the treatment?"_

_She brought the bluebell close to her nose and inhaled. It brought forth a soft smile. "No. I was just going to play--finish a few things up, then give my official leave of absence. From life. There was nothing left for me. I was surprised I just didn't do it sooner."_

_The way Alaran had spoke of her death so pleasantly caught Solas off-guard. "You wished to die?"_

_"Yeah. It's okay to die, sometimes." The smile left her lips. "Or, at least that was what I thought. But now..."_

Now she was in the same state as she had been in her other life. Now she was dying. 

It was when the coughing and convulsing and retching subsided that Solas was finally able to speak. A thousand cries, pleas, rants, and curses melded and formed into a single name.

_"Alaran."_

She stilled. 

His legs felt weak. Somehow, Solas shambled over in a corpse-like state. He knelt beside her fragile body, hands hovering inches from her shoulders, head, neck. Alaran's eyes were closed, refusing to meet his gaze. Whether she chose not to talk or was too weakened to do so, he could not tell. With each breath her chest rattled and throat clogged with phlegm. 

A single finger made contact with her sallow cheek. Then another, and another, until finally the flat of his hand cupped the side of her face. It trailed down to the nape of her neck, feeling each individual vertebrae. The other softly pressed against her back. Alaran always wore her coat over her, and it was big enough that nobody could tell just how...just how much weight she had lost. Skin over her rib cage and back clung to each bone. If Solas could feel this  _over_ the jacket, then just how bad was it underneath?

He attempted to swallow another stone that lodged in his throat. Alaran needed to be moved, if anything. Soldiers would soon be up, and it would undoubtedly raise serious questions if anybody saw them together. If anybody saw _him_ carrying  _her,_ no less. 

Alaran was limp and light as Solas scooped her up in his arms as gently as he could. How had she been fighting for so long? How had she not shown earlier signs of illness?

But she had. Solas just didn't see it. Regeneration potion after regeneration potion was proof of what was going on inside her body. She fell behind the other warriors, didn't talk unless she was spoken to, rested a hand constantly on Bubs for support--

Speaking of which. 

Where  _was_ her loyal hound?

Solas soon got an answer as he made his way back past the side of Cullen's cabin. He heard soft, anxious whining behind the commander's door, followed up by scratching noises. Bubba must have sensed that something was wrong, but had no way of getting out to see how Alaran was doing.

He stopped, started, then stopped again as he tried to decide whether or not he should open Commander Rutherford's cabin door to let out Alaran's dog. If the commander was up, it would not bode well if he saw Solas opening the door to let Bubba out and holding a lifeless Alaran with vomit and blood staining the tunic she wore.

If Solas didn't let Bubs out, however, the hound would most likely bear an even greater grudge towards the mage, resulting in half-chewed staffs, slobbery leg wraps, and awfully unpleasant-smelling blankets.

"Just...let him out, for hell's sake," Alaran muttered when she sensed Solas' distress. He looked down to see that her eyes were still closed, but they fluttered as if they were trying to open. 

Wordlessly, Solas maneuvered a hand so he could let out the Mabari. As soon as there was the slightest crack in the door, Alaran's dog pushed his snout through and barreled his way into the open. Solas side-stepped so he could close the door as quickly as possible. 

Bubba trapped him with a low, menacing growl. His hackles raised and he bared pearly white teeth. "Calm yourself," Solas instructed. "I intend to get her safely back to your cabin. Threatening me will only keep her out in the cold and prone to the view of public eye."

The curl of his lips lessened to give way for an angered huff. Had the situation not been so dire, Solas would have rolled his eyes. Mabaris. They were too smart for their own good.

With the beast at his heels, Solas carried Alaran up to her cabin cresting the upper part of Haven. He breathed a sigh of relief when they were inside and, after setting her down on her bed, waved a hand towards the fireplace. Fire immediately sprang forth, warming the cabin from its orange flames.

Alaran's eyes finally opened. They stared vacantly up at the ceiling for a few moments before sliding over to Solas. Violet eyes pierced his soul. "Wisdom," she muttered. He gave a single nod. "I told her not to tell."

Solas snapped. "You thought it to be an unwise idea to not inform me of your current state?" he questioned harshly. Alaran was expecting the response and did not flinch. She didn't even react.

"No. There's too much at stake and too little time to mourn. And I haven't yet found my shred of blue," was the reply. It was steady and even, void of emotion. 

"Do you believe that you will continue to get away with hiding this fact?" he berated heatedly. "You are the  _Herald._ People are constantly watching you. What will happen when you--"

"Cough up blood? Vomit and pass out? Become too weak to stand?" Alaran finished idly. "It's already been happening. I've kept it hidden this long; I can go a little longer."

"And after the  _little longer_ is over, Alaran? Then what?"

Solas regretted asking the question in his rage. Alaran's eyes saddened for a moment before becoming perfectly concise again. "Then I'll have found my shred of blue. And I can go."

He was losing steam. "And the Breach?"

"What of it?"

"You cannot possibly close it if you are..." Solas couldn't complete the sentence, so Alaran did it for him.

"Dead? Don't worry; I have a plan to stay alive."

"And what is that plan, exactly?" Now his voice was soft, deadly, and on the verge of breaking.

"Every time I'm close to death, I'll just imagine that I'll be forever tormented with the sounds Hawke makes when he's jacking off. Then I'll come running back to life."

Alaran then laughed at her own joke. It was croaking and weak, but it was real. Bubs made a noise similar to a laugh and jumped on her bed, curling up on her right side. Solas' jaw twitched. 

"Do you think this is amusing?"

"I think  _I'm_ amusing, if that's what you're getting at." She faintly groaned and pushed herself up into a sitting position. With her back  propped against the wall, Alaran examined the stains on her tunic. A frown darkened her berry-colored lips. "Shit. I'll just have to have this one thrown away. Can't have the maids seeing all this on a nightshirt now can we, Bubs?" 

He huffed in agreement. Alaran looked back up to Solas. "Thanks for getting me out of the snow. And for starting a fire. But I have a busy day ahead of me; I would like to get a couple hours of sleep before I go to work."

"In your condition?" he snorted derisively. "You wouldn't be able to stand, let alone have an actual conversation."

"You'd be surprised at my will," Alaran said dryly. "And if you're just going to be an ass, I'll have Bubberston kindly escort you from my premises." On cue, the Mabari lifted his head to give Solas a piercing glare. 

His teeth ground together. "Do you intend to tell nobody?"

"Would you, if you were dying and had to save the world from the Breach in the sky?" Alaran prompted with a healthily raised eyebrow. "It kind of reduces morale, I think." She sighed longingly and rested her head against the wall. "Man, and here I had hoped that I would get another shot of  _A Fault in Our Stars_ story arc."

Alaran's nonchalance set Solas off the edge. "And what will the Inquisition do when you are gone?" he demanded to know, unbridled anger in his voice. "You are their Herald. They  _cannot_ lose you."

"Well sucks to suck, 'cause they are. Solas, I'm dying. And there's nothing I can do about it other than try to keep going as long as I can. I don't understand why you're so beat-up about this; it's not like you haven't wished I was dead from the moment you found out I stood in the way of you and your restored Elvhen Glory."

Her remark stuck Solas like a poisoned arrow. He glared at her, hands trembling at his sides from fury. Bubba was growling, ready to leap at his neck the moment he made any sort of move. Alaran took it as a chance to go on. She waved a loose hand and said, "Once I'm dead and gone--"

 _"I already thought you were dead!"_ Solas exploded. Alaran stopped, mouth hanging open from being interrupted mid-sentence. Before he could rein himself in he ranted, "I watched the Kirkwall Chantry explode. I watched you run in and never come out. _You_ were already dead when I made my decision. _You_ were not part of the plan."

And there it was. Why Solas was reacting irrationally, illogically. Because he had gone through the ache of losing Alaran once. Now...now he had to go through it again. This time more slowly, more painfully.

"You...saw it? Where? From the Fade?" Alaran inquired. She had a grip on Bubba's collar. It was the only thing keeping Solas from being crushed under two hundred pounds of muscle and dog fur. 

"Yes," he spat shamefully. "The Veil trembled when it was destroyed. I was strong enough to travel to its origin; the last imprint the explosion left on the Fade retained the memory of you entering."

Her veneer wavered, and Solas thought he saw guilt. With a mirthless chuckle, Alaran placed her free hand on her tattooed forehead to rub it. "It seems that everybody I form relationships with have to experience what it's like for me to die on numerous occasions. Maybe I should mention that any time I make new friends." Her hand dropped. "But I see where you're coming from, now. I'm sorry." The sincerity in her voice made Solas want to collapse at her bedside. "I didn't know you saw what had happened. Or at least the first half of it. Sebastian and I made it out alive. That's who I was running in to get."

Solas should have felt foolish for not considering the chance that the Fade had only captured a certain moment of Alaran's life. And yet...there was something she was hiding.

But it was too late to ask for the truth. He was drained of all energy, as was she. The conversation would be continued at another time, if Alaran bothered to have it at all.

"I shall take my leave, then," he muttered, lifting his gaze to her violet eyes for an instant. They were filled with exhaustion, weight, sorrow, and life. How,  _how_ could she do it?

The question rang in Solas' ears long after he had closed the door to her cabin behind him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to continue on with the storyline from Alaran's pov, but decided this little piece was a good enough chapter all on its own. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but eh
> 
> Hope you guys are being as lovely as ever. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	31. A Grim Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al and Dorian, time travelers.

"You be good," I instructed Bubs as I held his thick face in my bony hands. "I'll be back, soon."

My Mabari's yellow eyes were sad, but this time he didn't try to argue with me. I leaned down and pressed a kiss on his forehead. "I'll be sure to take good care of him," Cullen assured firmly. Straightening once more, I looked to the commander. He appeared tired and overwhelmed, but his shoulders were proud and held back. 

"Thank you, Cullen," I said with a small smile.

He gripped the side of my arm and gave me a level, amber-colored gaze. "Be safe, friend."

"I will. Did you take some prophet's laurel tea this morning?"

The gaze dropped sheepishly for a moment. "Not yet. I wanted to see you off."

I sighed exaggeratedly and shook my head before looking back down to Bubs. "You take care of  _him,_ Bubberston. Got it?"

My dog stood taller and puffed his chest out, giving an affirmative  _boof._

"Herald, are you ready?" Cassandra asked, holding the reins of both her mount and my own. We were about to embark on a hard ride to Redcliffe; that way Alexius wouldn't have time to prepare for anything even more nefarious than what he already had in mind. We would only stop briefly at the Crossroads to exchange mounts.

My head felt funny, but other than that I was having one of my better days. It wasn't exactly  _good..._ neutral was a better term, which meant the scale could tip any which way. We would see how much damage the ride would do, so just to be safe I stashed away a butt-ton of regeneration potions. I had made them myself; Adan would ask too many questions or report to somebody if I asked him to make so much for me. 

"I'm ready," I nodded, patting Bubs one more time on the head for good measure. "Let's get this over with, yeah?" The unearthly green glow from the Breach reminded me why we needed to be haste in our journey. 

"I'll say," Dorian muttered from atop his horse. He was bundled up in a Fereldan coat that contrasted horrendously with his Tevinter outfit. "One good thing about going to the castle is that there will most likely be a nice, warm fire."

"Al," Varric whined, "do I have to ride with you?"

"Varric," I mimicked in the same tone of voice, "do you want to fall off your horse five million times and slow us down?"

"Darkspawn can keep up!"

"Do you really want to put that to the test?" I questioned with a dubiously raised eyebrow. Varric pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled. 

"Fine, fine."

I smirked and crouched down, lacing my hands together as a small platform that Varric could put his foot in. He narrowed his eyes at me and scoffed. "Come on, Tethras, you're holding us up," I said plaintively. 

"I hate you, Lavellan."

He placed his thick-soled boot in my laced hands. In one motion I propelled him up into the saddle, where he landed with a _thump_. Dorian snickered at the sight and Cassandra rolled her eyes. She didn't understand why Varric was coming along. In all honesty, the only reason why he was joining the excursion was to see that I was safe. As I took off my greatsword and strapped it to the saddle, I felt my face fall.  _"Varric,"_ I would say,  _"let's just go back to Kirkwall. Invite everybody, eat watermelon and sit out in Hawke's backyard. Let's joke around and make bets on Wicked Grace. I'll play the lute for everybody and sing the best I can. I want to be home when I die."_

_I don't want to die here._

"You coming, Al?" Varric asked when I paused a moment too long. I looked up at him in the early morning light and smiled. Something flickered across his face. Maybe it was an inkling of realization that something was wrong, maybe it was sadness because of the burden he saw I was bearing, or maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, it aged him. 

I held up my hand for him to grab. "Coming," I replied, putting a foot in the stirrup and getting pulled onto the horse. I felt Solas' eyes boring into my back. Ever since he had uncovered what was going on it was like he was Humpty Dumpty from  _Puss in Boots._ Always freaking watching. Always freaking there. I wanted to give him the finger. 

Varric wrapped his arms around my waist as we took off. The horses had been warmed up for us, already, so we were able to break into a gallop as soon as we left Haven. I was slightly worried that he would feel just how much weight I had lost, but thankfully all of the layers I wore hid the disturbing fact. I adjusted my scarf so it covered my mouth; sucking in cold wind without some sort of filter would probably kill me. Breathing was difficult enough--I didn't need to be killed by the air I struggled to get in my lungs. 

As expected, I felt exhaustion seeping into my bones when we made it to Redcliffe Castle. My head hurt and when I got off the horse the world pitched and rolled for a few moments. I closed my eyes and took a few steadying breaths. I  _had_ to keep going. Hopefully...hopefully Alexius would realize when he was beat. 

"Come now, Alaran, surely you've faced more fearsome circumstances," Dorian chuckled sardonically, mistaking my attempt to regain my balance for preparing myself to face Alexius. He clapped me on the shoulder. I wasn't ready for it and nearly buckled under the force. Seeing my weakness, Dorian moved his hand so it was under my arm. "Maker, are you...?"

I opened my eyes and glanced up at him. "I have to be," I answered quietly. Concern splayed across Dorian's face, but he remained quiet. His grip lessened and he eventually let his hand drop. I took a breath and grabbed my greatsword. Everybody had now gathered around me, waiting for their next command. "Alright," I said in a stronger voice, "let's get this on like Donkey Kong."

_Oh._

_I did not just say that._

My statement was met with puzzled expressions. "Herald?" Cassandra prompted uncertainly. I sighed and shook my head. Geniuses were always underappreciated in their time.

"Just...forget what I said and let's go."

Dorian soon disappeared. I trusted that Leliana and her soldiers were already in place, hiding beneath the foundations of Redcliffe Castle. I had to keep the wry smile to myself as I remembered my first playthrough of  _Origins._ I was...Surana, who romanced Alistair and didn't know how to do shit. And that  _damn_ revenant in the courtyard during the  _Arl of Redcliffe_ quest...I had rage quit more than once. 

A part of me had wondered just who the Warden was when I first came to Thedas. I had hoped it was  _my_ Surana--sassy and loyal and prone to fighting--but I later found that it wasn't. Warden Varryn Brosca, a casteless dwarf from Orzammar, was stout and just and kind. I had seen him go through the Joining when I was in the Fade: he had brown curly hair and a dark, clean-shaven face. And according to the records, his eyes were gray and his voice was rich. He could command an audience with a single word. And from what I could tell, he had done everything "good" during the game. King Bhelen ruled Orzammar and made progressive movements, the Circle hadn't been annulled, the werewolves were cured of their curses, and Connor Guerrin was released from his demon's hold without any casualties. He killed the Archdemon, but survived the process. That led me to believe that Morrigan had an Old God baby with either him or Alistair. The only variation was that after Loghain was executed, Brosca let Alistair remain as a Warden instead of forging a strong alliance between him and Queen Anora. 

I wondered if he was ever scared. Scared like I was. Did he worry that he would fail as he walked into Redcliffe Castle? That he would actually have to kill a child who was possessed by a demon? Or was he fearless and confident in everything he did? 

Then there was me. People thought I was straight and true whenever I made a decision. I certainly  _looked_ like it, which undoubtedly helped, but...I wasn't the nineteen-year-old who thought she could do everything with a quip and a staunch stance, anymore. I knew my failures and flaws. I knew them, and I remembered them.

Redcliffe Castle was dark and cold when we entered. A Tevinter soldier stood in our way, as if they could stop us alone. "Announce us," I said, voice matching the temperature of the fortress. 

An actual servant came to intervene, haughty and severe. "The invitation was for Mistress Lavellan only," he said. "The rest of you must wait here."

"They have to accompany me," I responded flatly. "You wouldn't deprive me of my attaches, would you?" I added the perfect amount of a smirk to make the servant want to snap my neck. Then, after realizing that he didn't have to deal with me longer if he agreed, gave a nod and turned for us to follow him. More Tevinter soldiers trailed behind, silent and dangerous.

Like farts.

Alexius was lounging in the arl's throne when we entered the main hall. Felix was standing beside him, balancing sick and strong more successfully than I was. "My lord magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived."

"My friend!" he exclaimed, standing to greet us. "It's so good to see you again." His smile turned sour. "And your associates, of course. I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

"Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?" Grand Enchanter Fiona demanded to know as she entered into the conversation. 

"Fiona," Alexius said with infinite patience, "you would not have turned your followers to my care if you did not trust me with their lives."

"Of course she trusts you, Alexius. I'm sure lots of people put their lives in your hands. You have one of those faces."

"Yes, the Magisterium tells me that so often," he replied dryly. "Shall we begin our talks?" Alexius sat back down on the throne, looking like one of my grandmother's cats as they sat on their finely embroidered cushion. 

Leave it to me to be thinking about things that had  _nothing_ to do with the situation at hand. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

I tilted my head a fraction as I decided to avoid all of the dramatic, rising climax. It would save me some energy. "Don't bother. I know that you invited me here to kill me."

"If you believe that, I marvel that you chose to come anyway."

"She knows everything, Father," Felix confessed evenly. 

Alexius' face filled with sorrow and anger. "Felix, what have you done?"

"We made sure to disarm your trap before we came in. I hope you don't mind."

"I've yet to see your cleverness, I'm afraid. You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark--a gift you don't even  _understand--_ and think you're in control?"

Dangit. Everything was going to be dramatic no matter what. 

"You're nothing but a mistake," Alexius sneered.

"You sound like my mother," I sneered back.

"The Breach was supposed to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One, for this world!" He was losing his grip. Now came the most dangerous part. Desperate people always did the most insane things. 

"Father, listen to yourself!" Felix pleaded. "Do you know what you sound like?"

"He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliche everyone expects us to be," Dorian commented as he made his entrance. Alexius looked over to where Pavus was and narrowed his eyes.

"Dorian. I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

"Alexius," I said with as much steel I could muster in my voice. "Enough. Whatever the Elder One has promised you will not come true. You know this."

"She's right," Dorian added. "We used to talk about wanting this to  _never_ happen. Where has that judgment gone?"

Felix added into the fight as Alexius turned to face the fire, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Stop it, Father. Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home."

"No!" Alexius turned back to his son. "It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"

"Save me?" A spark of anger ignited in Felix's calm tone. 

"There  _is_ a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple..."

"I'm going to  _die._ You need to accept that." His son took a step forward, trying to get his father to see reason.

For a moment, Alexius did. Then he looked at me, at the Mark on my hand, and lost it all. 

"Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this woman's life!"

But it was too late. Leliana's scouts had already slit the soldiers' throats or broke their necks, leaving Alexius completely undefended. 

"Your men are dead, Alexius," I stated firmly. "Step down. Let this be done."

He didn't seem to hear the intent behind my words. "You...are a mistake! You never should have existed!"

Alexius lifted his hand. A glowing amulet rose from his palm, crackling with twisted magic.

Ah, shit. Of course this couldn't have gone smoothly. 

"No!" Dorian shouted, sweeping his staff at Alexius and blasting him with magic. It sent the magister off-kilter, but the damage had been done. There was a  ** _crack_** in reality that sent my head spinning--wait, no, my whole  _body_ was spinning. The pull that forced itself on my being sucked both Dorian and me into the giant warp that had spawned in the middle of Redcliffe Castle. My hands clawed out for something to grab hold of, but all I caught was empty air. The last thing I saw before I was engulfed was Solas. Scared, flawed, caring Solas.

I wondered what he saw as he looked at me.

Then it was just...black.

-

Black.

Then water.

Water which I landed in with a loud  _splash._

It shocked my senses enough for me to immediately flail and stand upright. I was drenched from head to toe, weighed down by my wet soaking wet clothes. 

I barely had time to gather my bearings before two guards ran into the dank and half-flooded cell Dorian and I found ourselves in. "Blood of the Elder One!" the one to the right exclaimed. "Where'd they come from?"

The world tilted sharply. Before I had time to even get my sword out I pitched back into the stagnant water, unable to make my head straighten before the guards came upon me. Fortunately, Dorian was able enough to engulf them in flame so quickly they were nothing but charred corpses within seconds. If magic affected me, I would have felt the heat sear my face from my close proximity to the guards. All I could do, though, was watch as the bodies plunged beneath the surface of the water, steam rising as they sank. I tried not to do the same. The air was cold, making it hard for me to breathe. I rasped and lost my balance. I would have dove head-first, but Dorian was there to hold me upright.  _"Fasta vass,_ Alaran," he cursed worriedly as I struggled to get air in. He helped me out of the water and onto a set of stairs that were dry, after freezing the lock to the cell door we needed to get through. There, he used a faint heating spell to dry my clothes of the water that had soaked into them. 

It took me a little while to regain some semblance of breathing functionally. When I finally did, Dorian took up the opportunity to speak. "It seems we've been displaced," he said seriously, bringing a fist to his chin while drawing his brows together. "I don't think it's what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us...to what? The closes confluence of arcane energy?"

"The last thing...I remember...we were in the castle hall," I muttered between trying to steadily draw breaths. 

Dorian stood, too anxious to sit next to me. "Let's see. If we're still  _in_ the castle, it isn't...Oh!" His expression lit up as he came to his answer. "Of course! It's not simply where--it's when!" He waved his staff around so enthusiastically he nearly smacked me in the face. "Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!"

"Great. We're time travelers. I always wanted to be a companion." I coughed once. "What future were we thrust into?" I glanced around at the red lyrium piling up against the walls. A shiver went down my spine. "Do we want to know what happened without us?"

"By the looks of it? No." Dorian leaned against his staff and peered down at me. "Though from the look _you_ have, you wouldn't have been around much longer."

"Wow. Thanks, pal."

"So, what is it? Are you ill? Is it the Mark?" Dorian was thinking from a purely logical perspective; he honestly had no idea about how close my end of the road was.

I weakly laughed and shook my head. "No. Well, yes. The first. I'm ill. Very ill. It's, uh...my lungs. They're failing. And if they're  _failing..."_ With a grunt I pushed myself back to my feet and leaned against the dungeon wall. "Then that means I'm dying." The corners of my lips pursed, showing the dimples on each side of my face. My shoulders lightly shrugged up and down. "But I'm not dead, yet. So let's just--"

 _"What?"_ Dorian burst. "You can't  _tell_ me that and then expect everything to be fine! It's absurd!" He vigorously shook his head. "No. I'm not accepting it. Once we get back to  _where_ we're supposed to be, I'm going to..."

I placed a hand on his broad shoulder and patted it. That seemed to calm him at least a fraction. "Okay, Dorian. Can we go find a way to get out of here, now?"

-

My stomach flipped nauseatingly when I saw what had become of Cassandra Pentaghast.

 _"Cass,"_ I choked as I gripped the bars of her prison. She cut off from her chant and spun around to face me, lyrium-embedded eyes widened in shock. I could sense the taint in her, but it was different...it was  _consuming._

What had been done?

"You've returned to us?" she questioned disbelievingly. Her worn, gloved hands hovered just inches from mine, as if she was afraid to touch me and only be proven wrong. "Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?" She withdrew and ducked her head. "Maker forgive me. I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life--"

I reached through the bars and grabbed her hand. "Cass," I repeated. I felt the horror on my face; it pressed my sickness back, just for a little while. "Cass,  _what happened?"_

 Dorian froze the lock and broke it. I let go of her only to enter into the cell. My hands felt her face, her armor, her waist. The taint, the  _red lyrium..._ oh, god, it was inside her!

"Alexius sent us forward in time," Dorian put in as I felt like I would crumble like a pile of over-used coal. "If we find him, we may be able to return to the present."

"Go back in time?" Cassandra said slowly. "Then...can you make it so that none of this ever took place?"

She looked at me, and hope waged war with the doom in her eyes. I gave a single nod. "If Dorian is right and can actually reverse the spell, then yes."

With that statement, Cassandra chose to explain what had occurred. "Alexius' master...after you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising." Her mouth twisted. "Empress Celene was murdered. The army that swept in afterwards--it was a horde of  _demons._ Nothing stopped them. Nothing."

I squeezed my eyelids shut. It was getting harder to breathe, again, but that was due to the sheer wave of  _despair_ crashing against me. "I should have been there," I found myself whispering. "I should have been there to help you."

A softly shaking hand lifted my chin back up, and I opened my eyes to see Cassandra regarding me with faithfulness. It was as if I could save the world. "You're here now," she spoke firmly, voice riddled with corrupted lyrium and pure belief. "And so are the others, somewhere in the dungeon. They separated us, but I believe that if we hurry we may find them."

When I gave a nod Cassandra let her hand drop. "Come. Before it is too late."

Varric was found a short while later. If I thought it was bad with Cassandra, this was on a whole new level. When I saw him...

The red lyrium sang from his skin, yet there he was, humming away like nothing was bad, like he wasn't in excruciating pain as the Blighted mineral ate him from the inside out. 

He leaped to his feet when he saw me standing limply on the other side of his cell door. "Al!" he cried ecstatically. "Andraste's sacred knickers.  _You're alive?"_

Dorian broke the lock once more. I pushed it open numbly as I continued to stare at him, at his  _state._ "Where were you? How did you escape?"

"We didn't escape," explained the mage. "Alexius sent us into the future."

Varric looked to me and laughed. The laugh that was the same as it had been when it...before... "Everything that happens to you is weird, Al."

I  _couldn't_ start crying. Not now. Shit, not  _now._ It was freaking embarrassing a-and I was the Herald and crying meant I was weak and--

"Hey, Alaran." Varric was gripping my arm with his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. I sniffed once and quickly flicked away the tear escaping out of my left eye. "Stop being weird."

"I can't," I breathed with a reluctant smile. "Sorry."

Varric hugged me and I nearly broke. The lyrium left a sharp tang in my nostrils and the back of my throat. If  _I_ could feel it up this close, how did he feel? How about Cassandra? Dorian?

We needed to get out of here.

 "Let's go, you nug-humper," I croaked.

"Sure thing, Al. Sure thing." Arm-in-arm, the two of us walked out. 

As we found his and Cassandra's and Solas' staff stashed away by the guards, the ugly thoughts started coming to me.

_This is all your fault._

_You know who the Elder One is._

_You could have stopped this._

_You're a liar._

_And look what happens to liars, in the end?_

_Everything they know and love falls apart._

"Are you well, Herald?" Cassandra asked as I stopped and leaned against the wall. My legs shook with exertion and my greatsword was getting too heavy to carry. Never mind that my thoughts were all nightmarish and loathsome. Never mind that her body was a breeding ground for red lyrium. 

"Yeah, I'm--"

I threw up.

One of my hands shot to an inner pocket of my jacket and pulled out a regeneration potion. They usually helped with nausea, but I knew that I could only take so many to stem it. 

"Al?" Varric called hesitatingly as he neared. I shook my head once and continued to down the potion, feeling it burn my throat even more as it mixed with the bile. After a few moments, though, I felt the urge to vomit recede back to a faint, queasy stomach. 

"Are you able to continue on?" Dorian asked, trying to be as blunt and uncaring as possible to hide his worry.

"Yeah," I breathed. "We need to go find Solas."

"Hold on," said Varric, making my worst fear come to life. "We're not just going to talk about what happened? Are you okay? You're not sick or something, are you?"

My barked laugh was mirthless and sharp. "You're asking me if I'm alright, when you've got lyrium  _inside_ you? Fucking hell. Don't worry about me. Don't you  _dare_ worry about me."

Because if they started looking upon me like I was looking at them...if  _they_ felt what  _I_ was feeling...

Varric and Cassandra were somewhat taken aback at my snarling statement. I pushed myself off the wall, cleared my throat, and took up the lead once more. When we were attacked by a few of the guards, I used the dagger at my side instead of my greatsword; I doubted I could even swing it three or four times before my body completely gave out. Isabela had taught me enough basic moves for me to know how to hold and jab, and more tactics I picked up along my travels made me capable of dodging and avoiding attacks. 

When we survived the small skirmish, I crouched down to loot the bodies, searching for any type of keys that might be helpful. I found some on a soldier and fished them out. Dorian helped me back up, I avoided the gazes of Cassandra and Varric, and continued on.

When I saw that my two friends needed a rest, I encouraged them to stay with Dorian at the top of the staircase we were about to descend. They were going to protest, but I fixed them with a resolute stare. That was one thing that had not been weakened by my cancer. I planned to have it with me up until my final moments. 

A hand braced against the wall as I went down the staircase. The cells were illuminated by red lyrium and one meager torch that was on the verge of sputtering.

"Is somebody there?" a familiar voice called. I stumbled and raced to the one that Solas was occupying. When he saw me, his whole face encompassed with shock and awe. My fingers fumbled with the keys as I tried to find the right one to unlock his cell door. When I did, Solas took a step forward. "You're alive," he breathed, letting my image fully register in his mind. 

I sniffed and gave a nod. "Alexius displaced us in time. Dorian and I just arrived." My throat ached and my eyes filled with tears.  _No crying, no crying, no crying,_ I chanted frantically to myself. 

For a few moments, all Solas and I did was stand in front of each other. Then, shakily, I lifted a hand and placed it on the nape of his neck. He, in turn, closed his eyes and let out a quavering breath. My other hand touched his face and felt the small bumps of lyrium that rested just underneath his skin. I let out a soft cry and pulled him in against me. Solas broke and wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed me as tightly as he dared to. I buried my face into his bony shoulder and breathed in the smell of dungeon and lyrium. "I'm sorry," I repeated over and over gain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

 _"Tel'abelas, tel'abelas,"_ Solas said back just as fervently. Finally, he pulled away just enough so he could rest his forehead against my own. "You have returned. That is all that matters."

"Please, please don't say that to me," I whimpered. "What should matter is when I  _wasn't here._ I wasn't here to stop all of this. I wasn't here...to...to..." Then my head snapped upright, and I stared at Solas with wide, tearful, despairing eyes.  _"Oh,_ Solas. This...this was how you felt, wasn't it?"  _When you awoke and saw the present world, this was the despair. This was the guilt._

He knew exactly what I meant. I watched as his eyes reached a new level of sorrow. Fingers tucked a stray strand of white hair behind an ear as I got a response. "Yes."

For several seconds all I could do was stand there and let the revelation tear down my barriers and biases. "But, unlike me," Solas continued quietly, "you will succeed for the better. I will see that it happens."

"Thank you." It was all I could manage to say. After a slight hesitation, Solas pressed a dry, chaste kiss to my forehead. It felt as though a brand had marked my skin, remaining there forever. I wished I had the courage to do something similar. Now, though, all the courage I had was geared towards one thing.

Getting back.

-

Leliana. Connor Guerrin. Fiona. The sacrifices. The world. 

It was all because of my absence that their lives were thrown into the deepest pits of hell. 

Closing the Breach didn't mean ending Corypheus, I realized. I had been so focused on just getting that taken care of that I didn't fully consider the implications it would have afterwards. He was going to retaliate, that I was almost sure of.

Yet where would I be? Dead? I couldn't do anything, unless one of the advisers decided to shove a stick up my ass and haul me around like a puppet.

Ew. Gross. I shouldn't have thought of that.

The obstacle still remained, however. I would have to take care of it in some way, before...

Yeah.

I was just as sick as everybody else by the time we gathered the red lyrium shards that unlocked the door to the main hall. I had thrown up a couple more times, but now I had Solas beside me as support. And when he or one of the others gave out for a few moments, I was there to help them. We were all just one big mess.

And the rifts. Oh, the freaking  _rifts._ They nearly tore me apart.

My teeth ground together as we entered the main hall that Gereon and Felix resided in. From the looks of it, the younger Alexius wasn't in the position to function, let alone protest.  _What had been done to him?_ I thought grimly as my teeth ground together. This was it. Now or never.

"It's over, Alexius," I simply said to the magister. He tilted his head so he was slightly looking over his shoulder.

"So it is. I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew that I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure."

"Was it worth it?" Dorian asked lowly, a curl to his lips. "Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"

"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end."

"It  _does_ matter," I found myself saying with some passion, some life. More than I thought would be in the statement, that was for certain. "I will undo this."

"How many times have I tried? The past cannot be undone. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you for us all."

Even though my vision was poor, I saw what Leliana was doing as she lifted Felix's nearly lifeless body onto his feet. Alexius cried out in alarm. "Felix!"

"That's  _Felix?"_ Dorian said incredulously. "Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?"

"He would have died, Dorian! I  _saved_ him!" To Leliana, he pleaded, "Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask."

Alexius didn't save Felix, though. He was as good as dead. But with so much hanging in the balance, I instead began to say, "Just give us the amulet, and we'll let him--"

If I was able to see, I would have witnessed the look of pure hatred and rage overcome Leliana's face. I would have anticipated her decision to go ahead and slice Felix's throat. 

But I didn't, and Felix was finally released. Alexius gave a pure roar of heartbreak and rage. If we fought...if _I_ fought...we wouldn't make it through, no matter how many healing or regeneration potions we had in stock. And if we didn't make it through this, then there would be no do-over, no way to go back in time and stop it all from happening.

As Leliana was blasted off to the side by a burst of magic from Alexius, I pulled out my dagger and charged at him. He saw me coming almost immediately and hit me with magic, but the spell rolled right off. I became close enough that I could see his eyes grow bigger when he realized my immunity. And there was only one person he had heard of that was that way.

I almost felt bad as I drove my dagger into his throat. Alexius was just another one of us fools who thought that doing evil things now would produce good later. 

When I pulled away I nearly fell to the ground. That final sprint had done a number on me, and for a moment I feared that I wouldn't make it back in time to close the Breach before I started examining radishes. But Solas and Varric and Cassandra were there, giving me what little strength of their own they had left. 

"He wanted to die, didn't he," Dorian said morosely as he knelt down by Alexius' body. "All those lies he told himself, the justifications...He lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius..."

"There's still hope yet, Dorian," I reminded, reaching down and prying the cursed amulet from dead fingers. Handing it to Dorian, I asked, "Can you use it to get us home?"

The mage examined the object. "This is the same amulet he used before. I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief." Dorian gripped it tightly and lifted his eyes to me. "Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift."

"An hour?" Leliana snapped coldly. "That's impossible! You must go now!"

Just as she said that the castle trembled and a bone-chilling roar was heard just beyond the walls. "The Elder One," my adviser announced, fixing me with an icy gaze. 

I looked to my three other companions to see that they were sharing the same grim, resolute look. "No," I found myself saying before any of them got a word out. "No, you can't."

"The only way we live is if this day never comes," Leliana explained, her weathered and withered face softening for a moment. "Cast your spell, Dorian. You have as much time as I have arrows."

Dorian began dragging me away, separating me from everybody else. "No," I continued on, trying to sound fierce but only coming out as miserable. "No, I won't let them. They can't...You can't!" I shouted. "Varric! Solas! Cass!"

They turned to me one final time. Varric had the audacity to smile. "You owe me a drink at the tavern, Al," he called back, giving a small salute as he departed to his death. Their figures became more and more blurry as the space between us filled. 

It was hard, describing the feeling that I felt. It was a type of hopelessness, a type of despair, that...that you know  _has_ to happen. And because you couldn't do anything about it, because you still  _wanted_ to do something because of that raging instinct inside you...

The results were implosive. 

I clung to Dorian, because it was all I could do. The walls that kept back my tears finally ruptured, and I began sobbing. It was as though I was a child again, afraid and hiding in my room from my father. There was nothing I could do to stop what was ultimately going to occur. I was helpless. I was afraid.

While I had my breakdown, Dorian remained strong and continued his work. In any other circumstance, I would have been paying attention to his casting with rapt attention, but all I that I heard was fighting beyond the doors, Varric and Cassandra shout to each other, Solas scream, and then...

Leliana was chanting.

_"Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame."_

The doors burst open, and though I couldn't see that far away, I  _knew_ what had happened to the three that fought to the death. I  _knew_ that was Varric's corpse being torn in half by a terror demon, I  _knew_ that was Cassandra's head on the floor, and I  _knew_ that was Solas' twisted, mangled body being cast aside.

_"Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side."_

My mouth opened in a silent scream. Leliana's prayer was cut short as an arrow plunged into her shoulder. She cried out and I began racing forward. Dorian saw it coming, though, and lashed out a hand to keep me in place. "You move, and we all die!" he shouted. He trusted me enough to release, and instead cast a final spell that opened the wormhole to our past, to our future.

Leliana was still fighting. As the portal enveloped us, I watched with blurred eyesight as Leliana fought and fought and fought and--

Died.

-

A warm fire, Inquisition soldiers, and my companions surrounded Dorian and me. I looked into the face of Alexius, whose expression was as haggard as my own. "You'll have to do better than that," his former apprentice said, filling in for my usual one-liner. I would have time to be grateful later on.

Alexius bowed his head and sunk to his knees, all fight and hope gone out of him. "You're done here," I said just loudly enough for him to hear. 

"You won," he spat woefully. "There is no point extending this charade." Alexius looked to his son, and tears filled his eyes. "Felix..."

"It's going to be alright, Father," Felix said with loving, firm assurance.

"You'll  _die."_

"Everyone dies."

His words echoed in my head long after Alexius was taken away, long after Queen Anora came and turned the mages over to us, and long after it was agreed that we should rest at Redcliffe Castle due to my obviously weakened state.

It's always an odd feeling, taking off clothes and sitting down on a bed after going through a grueling and traumatizing ordeal. It shouldn't be this  _normal._

There was a knock on my door. I had finished dressing down for the night and was sitting rigidly on the side of my bed for...what? Fifteen, twenty minutes or so? Just sitting, replaying the images in my head over and over again.

"Come in," I called absently, forcing my head to turn and watch as the door opened and Dorian Pavus stepped through. He coughed awkwardly and shuffled his feet.

"Just, ah, checking to see how you're doing," he said brusquely. I tried smiling, but my lips were frozen in a straight line. 

"Fine," I automatically replied. "Thank you for your concern, though."

He lost his sense of distant propriety and scoffed. Striding over, Dorian sat himself beside me and sighed heavily. "Maker's breath, Alaran, I'm too exhausted to be lied to. We both know you're not  _fine._ You weren't then and you aren't now. Just because we did fix things, it doesn't mean what we saw simply vanishes. 

"And you? Are you doing okay?" I asked. I had been so consumed by my own thoughts that I didn't even consider how Dorian was faring. How selfish of a person was I?

Dorian hummed as his face grew serious. "Just as well as you, I suppose. Perhaps a bit better, but..."

I reached for his hand and clasped it. "Thank you. Without your help, that future would have been final. You saved us all, Dorian."

His laugh was self-deprecating and deflecting. "Not to worry, Alaran, I feed my ego well enough that it doesn't need treats from you." Still, he didn't let go of my hand. "How is your...body?"

My free hand momentarily went to my chest, where I felt the echoes of my breath rattling in the failing organ. "Calmed down, for now. I'm honestly surprised I'm still able to function. It'll all probably hit me in the morning, but...by the end of the week we'll have the Breach sealed. That's what I'm readying myself for next."

"Alaran--"

"Shh." I managed to smile and have it reach my eyes. "It's alright. Just watch my back, okay?"

After his jaw jutted to the side, Dorian relinquished his argument and gave a nod. "Do the others know?"

"No. Well, Solas does." Speaking his name made my heart wrench. 

"Do you plan on telling them?"

"I don't know."

I really didn't. 

After receiving some comfort through small, materialistic talk with Dorian, he withdrew to his own quarters and left me alone once more. I sorely wished Bubs was here, or Hawke--the nights when I climbed into bed with him because of the nightmares we were both plagued with always went by faster that way. I didn't want to sleep, because sleep meant reliving that future, reliving the glow of red lyrium, reliving the atrocities that had been committed. 

Man, I really needed to lighten up, didn't I?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THINGS REALLY WILL LIGHTEN UP AGAIN I PROMISE. IT MAY JUST TAKE A FEW MORE CHAPTERS, SO BEAR WITH ME.
> 
> How are all of you doing? I hope all of your summers are as lovely as you are.


	32. Call the Inquisition Midwives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude of sorts

We left Redcliffe the next morning, just as planned. Leliana wanted me to stay and speak with Arl Eamon, but that would mean waiting for him to arrive in another two days. After some persuasion, we both came to the conclusion that with mages now on our side, we needed to focus solely on the Breach and return to Haven as soon as possible.

I hadn't slept well, unsurprisingly, and was half-dozing in my saddle as we left Redcliffe. A weakness in my body that couldn't be remedied also diverted my attention. 

It was getting harder to hide my unwell state. Cassandra shot glances at me, and I faintly felt Varric prodding at my waist as we rode together. He was trying to feel for protruding ribs. Which, unfortunately, were most definitely there. Soon they would be asking how I was doing, and I feared they would have the audacity to argue against my lie when I told them I was doing well.

_Everyone dies._

How well would they accept that as I did?

I was swarmed by my own thoughts that it took me a few moments to register a new voice calling out for help as we rode. My ears twitched at the sudden noise, and I squinted my eyes to peer at the scrambling figure. 

Cassandra took up the lead position on her horse to greet the stranger. "Halt," she commanded as the person slowed. They were panting loudly, whether it be from exertion or panic. "State your business."

"I-it's my sister!" they cried desperately, pointing to the road that curved around the bend of a sloping, rocky hill. "She's in labor, a-and the baby--"

A wrenching scream caught our attention. I spurred my mount into a leaping gallop. It almost tossed Varric off, and he made a noise as he held onto dear life. "You know," he grunted as we reached the turning point of the bend in the road, "this could be one big trap."

It could be. But it might not be, as well. There was only one way to find out. Charging headfirst without any plan or backup plan wasn't the  _best_ way to find out, no, but...oh well.

I pulled to a stop when we saw a small wagon, two underfed horses, and a family of six surrounding a woman lying on the ground. She was writhing in pain, knuckles white from gripping the hands of those who winged either side of her.

"So...it's not a trap," Varric muttered. He let go of me so I could hop off and see what was going on. 

A bearded man, most likely the father, snapped at me when I approached. "Stay back, knife-ear. We don't need your kind's help!"

"You will ** _not_  **speak to the Herald of Andraste that way," a furious Nevarran said from her mount as she pulled up beside me. The man looked up at her, paling as he realized just who she was. Just who  _I_ was.

He nearly got on his knees and groveled. "I-I had no idea. I most humbly beg your apologies, Herald--"

"Stand up straight, man," I commanded sharply. "Is this your daughter?" I gestured to the woman in labor. He vigorously nodded. "And you have her lying on the ground with no support? What kind of father are you? Fetch a pillow or a blanket, and quickly."

"But we don't...we don't have any, serah," he spoke shamefully. There was another guttural scream.

Solas was by my side. "Here," he spoke, handing me a rolled blanket from his pack. I gave a quick bob of my head in acknowledgement and set to work. Her contractions were close from the way she was crying out. That observation was a given.

I moved around and put the blanket under her damp head, then took off my coat and gloves. "Dorian, grab the blue tonic from my pack. The small vial. It looks like lyrium, but darker." I moved to the woman's knees and spread her legs apart to see what was going on. "What the shit," I muttered, "they haven't even removed her underwear." Then I looked up again at her family and saw that they were all men. Young brothers, to be precise, and who was most likely her husband. 

"Our mother died a month ago," one of the boys answered before I could even question anything. "She would have known what to do."

I pressed my lips into a firm line. "Well, I'm here, now." Dorian handed me the tonic. I quickly pushed up my sleeves and uncorked it, pouring the contents over my bare hands and arms.

"What is that?" Varric questioned.

"A sterilizer. Old Tevinter recipe."

"Maker," Dorian breathed, "I didn't think anybody knew about that outside of my peoples' healers."

I shook away the excess and stripped away the woman's underwear. "Landan?" she asked frantically. The man on her right, the one with the most fear etched on his face and holding her right hand, leaned in. "Who are these people?"

"They're with the Inquisition, love. And that's the Herald of Andraste."

All eyes turned to me. Then the woman said said with all the sarcasm she could muster, "So the bloody Herald of Andraste is going to see my cooch? Just wonderful."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm Alaran Lavellan right now. Just a random person. And you are?"

"Beatrice."

"Well, Beatrice," I said as I felt her stomach to see how Baby was doing. "It looks like I'm going to be..." I paused, brows furrowing. 

"What is it?" Beatrice asked, then abruptly cried out again as she had another contraction. 

I took a breath and remained calm. "We're going to help you get on the wagon, Beatrice."

"Why? What for?"

I was already motioning Cassandra, Solas, and the able men to help her. "Partially so you're not on the ground when you give birth. It's also just to be safe." I kept my hands in the air and close to my chest as Beatrice was moved. "Are you okay with men seeing you?" I had to ask as another blanket was laid out for her to lie on in the wagon. 

She gave a shaky laugh. "The whole world already has, hasn't it? What's a few other eyes?"

"Alright. Wait--stop her there, right on the edge. Just like that, yes. Cassandra, Dorian, hold each of her legs up in the air. Better yet, get them over a shoulder. Just like that. Landan, prop her up into an angled position. Yeah, good, perfect. Father, Brother, you're going to need to help her bear down. Let her use you when she's pushing, got it?" 

There was a sharp noise of discomfort from Beatrice. "This isn't how most births are positioned, serah," she grunted. "What's wrong?" Another cry from a contraction. 

"Solas, heat the air," I instructed, not ready to answer her just yet. "We need it to be warm for both Mother and Baby out here in the elements. Varric, grab another blanket and have it ready."

Beatrice's face turned red and veins popped on her temples. I took another breath and readied myself for what I thought was going to happen. "You're fully dilated. Now, I'm going to need you to push--that's a girl! You're doing so well. Breathe, breathe, bear down, and--good job! Now just--"

I saw a tiny foot emerge. My heart dropped into my stomach, but I didn't falter. "Alright, Beatrice, I'm going to need you to do  _exactly_ what I say."

"Why?" she asked frantically. "Tell me!"

"Baby decided to come out the wrong way," I explained evenly. Beatrice lowly moaned. Breeched births were often fatal for booth the infant and mother in Thedas, mainly because people didn't know what to do. "But I'm going to talk you through it, and everything will be okay, okay?"

"Okay," she said through gritted teeth. I rubbed my hands together to try and get some warmth into them.

"Bear down, Beatrice. Bear down. I believe in you. Okay, I'm going to need a little,  _little_ push. You can't push hard. Baby needs you to push little."

Beatrice groaned, but did as I said. I saw the single, grayish leg emerge, but not the right one. "Hold completely still, Beatrice, alright? Good girl, good. This is going to be painful, but you need to  _be still._  And keep the air warm, Solas. Anything cold will shock Baby into moving and breathing."

Tears were running down her face and fear filled her eyes, but she gave another slight nod. Landan was gripping her shoulders for support. His expression was nearly the same. 

I gently reached inside and felt the angled second leg. I never had to remove one manually, before, but I ignored my own trepidation and felt along the femur. When I found the best position to pull, I did so. A breath of relief puffed past my lips as the leg popped out. Behind me, I heard Cassandra and Dorian do the same. 

Another little, controlled push, then another. The left arm soon birthed, but Baby's right side seemed to be proving difficult. The right arm wasn't coming out. I had done an arm, before, but not on this side, and not at this angle. 

For a moment, I stood there and thought about what I could even do. "Winging it" wasn't something a person normally did when delivering a baby, especially a  _breeched_ baby, but the only preparation I had for something like this were episodes of  _Call the Midwife_ and a couple of YouTube videos I viewed about breeched births. That was after curiosity got the best of me  _because_ of watching the hit BBC show. I had nowhere near the expertise as a midwife should have. 

Yet I had to act, otherwise we'd lose the baby and most likely Beatrice. "I have to push, serah, I  _have to,"_ Beatrice suddenly gasped. 

"You can't," I replied with the firmness of a fifty-year-old nun. "For Baby's sake, you can't."

She made a noise that would have made somebody with less resolve move hastily and potentially harm both patients. But I clenched my hands once and exhaled through my nostrils. This had to be done.

Both hands started to gently rotate Baby, who was still unmoving, no thanks to Solas' work. I reached in one more and felt where the right arm was, and, in one single motion, continued to adjust Baby's position while pulling the arm over her face and chest. It slid out, intact and unbroken. "Little push, Beatrice, little push," I went on, breath shaking with adrenaline. "Remember to bear down. That's it. That's it." She panted and whimpered. I could tell that she was losing energy, which meant we didn't have much time left.

Now came the most terrifying part. I put an arm between Baby's legs and moved my third finger into Baby's mouth, while the second and fourth fingers braced themselves. Beatrice tried her best not to squirm at the intrusion. Once my other hand was placed as accurately as I thought it was, I said, "One more push, Mamae, one more push!"

She bellowed out what could only be a war cry as she gladly did what she was told. The baby came out smoothly, along with a loose and untangled umbilical cord. I refrained from letting joy flood my system as Baby squirmed and sucked in a healthy lungful of air. Her shrill and loud cries were followed by breaths being let loose from their hold and cheering. I made quick work of tying off the cord after Varric was there to wrap Baby up in the blanket he had ready. He then handed the newborn to me, a smile plain on his face. "You have a girl, Beatrice," I called. There was another wave of laughter, and happiness radiated throughout the group. "Grandfather," I said to the bearded man, "give your grandchild to your daughter."

He wiped away the tears in his eyes and said in a husky voice, "Aye, Herald, it would be my honor." He reached down from his spot on the wagon and took his granddaughter in his arms. 

I turned my attention to the afterbirth. The sooner Beatrice could cover herself and finally become comfortable, the better. But the birth was successful. It was one of my most complicated delivery yet, but...when I woke up this morning, I would have never expected to be part of such a thing. I was glad we came at the right time. To not--

The placenta rushed out with a heavy flow of blood. Beatrice inhaled sharply at the sudden movement. 

 _"Shit,"_ I hissed. 

"What is it? Oh, Maker, what is it now?" the new mother mourned. Her father still had her infant in his arms. And she would have to stay there just a little longer.

"Landan, pull her back," I commanded this time. "Something's ruptured."

Blood kept coming. Dorian and Cassandra helped move Beatrice's legs so they were propped up on the wagon. Blood in birth--this much blood--never, ever bode well. Not on Earth, and definitely not here. 

I snapped my head to Varric. "Get another sterilizing vial from my pack.  _Now."_ As he rushed off, I grabbed Solas by his sweater-tunic and pulled him forward. "You're going to help me, or else she's not going to make it."

He gave me a clear-headed nod. "I will do my best."

Varric came back with the vial. He was pale-faced, just like the rest of us. I unstoppered it and doused the contents over Solas' hands and arms. The brothers that were on the wagon scrambled out of the way as we hurriedly climbed on. My elbows and legs almost gave way, but Dorian was there to spot me in case I couldn't make it. Once I was on, though, I lost all sense of weakness in my own body. 

Beatrice was looking at me with a terrified, white-eyed stare. "H-Herald..." she stuttered. "I don't want to die."

"I won't let that happen," I promised with quiet fierceness. "And I'm sorry you have to keep bearing yourself to the world. It'll all be over in a jiffy, I swear."

My gaze locked on Solas. He was composed and ready as I was. "Can you find the rupture and heal it from the outside?" I asked in a fast, even tone.

"Perhaps, but the process is not painless. Extensive healing that deals with internal--"

"I already know about what the process entails, Solas. I need you to  _do_ it."

Dorian handed me an uncorked healing potion. I leaned over and poured it down Beatrice's throat, who was already looking a shade of gray from blood loss. "Stay with me, love, just stay with me," Landan pleaded fervently. 

Fingers that were still covered in fluid and blood from child birth peeled back Beatrice's dress so her lower abdomen was exposed. Solas placed a hand on it and  _pushed,_ healing magic pulsating from his palm as he did so. Beatrice would have screamed in more pain, but she was too weak to do such. I watched as Solas worked. He was trying to balance exactness with haste; if a wound was not properly sealed by magic, the wrong things could conjoin or create a new tear. Too many people forgot that healing was not about creating  _new_ skin or muscles or bones; it was about repairing them. Solas couldn't pull too tightly one way, but he also didn't have all the time in the world to figure out just which  _way_ not to pull. Bodies weren't two-dimensional. He wasn't working with a flat, straight line. Ruptures were jagged or curved, and always at an angle. 

Beads of sweat formed at his brow. I felt Beatrice's pulse and found that it was slowed and fading. By now she had lost consciousness. "Have you found it, yet?" I questioned. Solas' eyes burned as he gave his head a shake.

"Not yet. It must be deep, for--ah!" He immediately clenched a fist and twisted it, manipulating the healing magic to his will. Carefully, he pulled away, sealing the rupture as he did so. "I believe I have done it."

"Bea?" Landan's voice was quavering and frightened. I looked over and saw that he was shaking a hand against his wife's cheek. Her head rolled limply to the side. "Bea, love?"

I checked for her pulse on her neck and found none. Scrambling over so I was next to her chest, I interlaced one hand on top of the other and began doing chest compressions. In my panic, I did what every single person on Earth was taught to do when giving CPR.

Do it to  _Staying Alive._

 _"Ah, ha, ha, ha, staying alive, staying alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, staying alive, staying alive,"_ I grunted more than sang to myself. She was not going to die on me. 

_Everyone dies._

But not today.

**Not today.**

When I reached my sixty-sixth compression, I heard Beatrice draw in a ragged breath. I immediately stopped and yelled, "Dorian! Regeneration potion! Now!"

The mage slapped one in my hand. I quickly put it to Beatrice's lips, who readily drank its contents. "Told ya I wouldn't let you die," I smirked as her eyes met mine.

"Thank you, Herald," Landan wept. "Thank you." He turned to Solas. "And thank you, ser. Both of you saved my wife's life. I will forever be in your debt."

"We all will be," the new grandfather added in a choked voice.

After Beatrice seemed to be recovering from the trauma she received, she was propped up in Landan's arms so she could hold her baby. "I'm going to name you Dessa," she whispered lovingly to her child, her new light. "After your grandmother." She looked to her husband, then to me. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect," Landan cooed. "She has her nose and all."

"I can't think of a better name myself," I nodded. My head rolled tiredly to Solas, who was sitting in a similar position as I. We both shared a smile, whole and happy. There was nothing like the miracle of life that brought people together.

"Are you just one big cliche?" Dorian asked me as he came to prop his elbows up on the edge of the wagon I was resting against. 

"Yeah," I smirked. "Yeah, I am."

"Maker, what did I get myself into?"

Sure, everyone dies. But because of that, everyone wants to live. That's the thing, isn't it?

That's Life before Death.

-

We escorted Beatrice and her family to the Crossroads, where Chantry sisters and Inquisition healers were there to tend to their needs. Everybody was glowing from the accomplishment, even Varric. "You know," he said as we gathered around a fire before retiring for the night, "I think that's definitely going in your book."

"I'll sketch some graphic and detailed images of how to deliver a baby feet-first," I added teasingly. He made a face and shook his head. 

"No. I, ah, I think I'll remember that forever."

"You weren't the one holding up the mother's leg, dwarf," Cassandra put in dryly. I didn't say anything, but I saw the tears in her eyes as she saw what had been achieved that day. 

"Hey, I made sure there were no bandits trying to sneak up on us! Somebody has to protect the Herald, after all."

She snorted and shook her head. I wandered away, unnoticed by the bickering warrior and rogue. Dorian was unaccounted for; I had seen him go to his tent, grumbling something about never getting enough sleep with the Inquisition.

My feet carried me to Solas, who was standing off a ways as to avoid unwanted conversation.

"Hello," I chimed as I stopped beside him.

"Hello," Solas echoed. 

"You did good work, today," I commended sincerely. 

"As did you. Most births such as the one today are often unsuccessful." He glanced down at me. "If I did not know better, I would say that the techniques you used were from your home world."

"Kind of. When I was getting the arm and the leg out I just kind of guessed."

"And when you brought Beatrice back to life?"

I smiled to myself. "Oh. Yeah, that was definitely from Earth. It's called CPR. Pretty helpful, huh?"

"Very. And the song that came with it?"

"Helps keep rhythm. It's a horrible tune, but hey, it does the trick, right?"

A silence fell between the two of us for a few moments. Then, in a quieter voice, I said, "Solas, I...I understand, now."

His brows inclined in curiosity. "Understand what?" he asked lightly. 

"Why you did what you did. And...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what you felt. I should have done more to help you in some way."

Before Solas could react or respond, I pressed a chaste, dry kiss on his cheek. Just like the one he had given me in the future Redcliffe. 

I felt him stiffen rigidly. Withdrawing, I couldn't help but smirk. "Goodnight, Solas."

As I walked away feeling gray-blue eyes burning a hole in my back, I realized just what I had done.

_Oh, jeez, what had I just done?_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BABIES. Babies are what bring people together in the face of a daunting, ongoing trial. Freaking babies.
> 
> I hoped I got the birth as medically accurate as possible. If not, I'm sorry.
> 
> Stay lovely <3


	33. Completely Faded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al freaking struggles, man. But she still manages to have a good time.

Little did I know that when I entered the Chantry, I would also be entering a heated argument between Cassandra and my advisers. 

"It is not a matter for debate," Cullen said vehemently. "There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!"

Josephine did not back down. "If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst."

Cullen turned to look at me as I came to a stop. His amber eyes were filled with anger. Eyes that didn't have too dark of circles under them, today. Good. So Bubs had been taking care of him. "What were you thinking," he snapped, "turning mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!"

"There were abominations in the Circles because demons preyed on mages' fears," I answered coldly. "The Veil there was as nearly as damaged as it is here. We show them that they are safe and secure with the Inquisition, and they will be stronger against temptation."

He didn't seem to hear what I was saying. "And how many lives will be lost if they fail? With the Veil broken, the threat of possession..."

Before I could open my mouth to give a very biting reply, Cassandra cut in. "Enough arguing! None of us were there. We cannot afford to second-guess our people. The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished."

"The voice of pragmatism speaks!" Dorian chimed in from his position next to one of the Chantry pillars. "And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments."

"Closing the Breach is all that matters," Cassandra spoke faithfully.

"Agreed." I was going through one of my weak spells, all of a sudden. But I would have to power through, just like I always did. 

Bubs whined anxiously and licked my hand repeatedly. "Hey," I spoke quietly to him. "Calm yourself."

Leliana transitioned the discussion. "We should look into the things you saw in this "dark future." The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?"

"Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do," Dorian put in. "Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!"

A tingling sensation began crawling up my arms. "One battle at a time," Cullen reminded. "It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let's take this to the War Room." When he set his gaze on me once more, the anger had subsided. "Join us. This means nothing without you."

It took me a few moments for his words to register. "Of course," I said softly. The sensation spread to my arms, legs, stomach. Sweat started to form on the back of my neck and in my armpits. Bubba whined again, this time more loudly. He began pacing around me. 

"I'll skip the war council," Dorian remarked. "But I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don't mind."

"Try not to get sucked in," Cassandra said loudly enough for him to hear. As everybody chuckled, my body sent out the feeling that something was off. What I was experiencing wasn't a warning that I was going to faint.

We turned to go to the War Room. I followed behind, but the sensation had gone to my head. It became so great in my stomach that all of a sudden the area was numb. Meanwhile, my chest constricted and I parted my lips so I could try and get extra air in. 

Three minutes after the door to the War Room closed behind me, my heart went into a tizzy and I saw spots in my vision. Everything was tingling so greatly it blocked out my own thoughts and the voices of others. Cullen shushed Bubba when he gave a high-pitched bark at me. He ignored the commander and continued to switch between barking and licking my numb fingers.

I distantly looked down as my hands braced themselves against the table. Somebody was saying my name, but it was muted. I felt like I was underwater. I was underwater, and I was sinking, sinking, sinking.

_What was happening?_

_Was I dying?_

It was the last thought I remembered thinking before slipping into darkness.

-

"Alaran?" Cullen repeated as he watched her put two shaking hands on the war table. She still didn't respond. Her eyes were far away, and there was an almost gray shade to her face. 

"What is it, Herald?" Josephine inquired over Bubba's loud barking and whining. He seemed panicked. Like something was wrong. By the time she had finished asking her question, Cullen's heart had already leaped into his throat. He knew the signs. The older templars, the ones who were in the final stages of their life after consuming lyrium, they acted this way before...

Before seizing. 

He nearly barreled through Leliana as he rushed to Alaran's side, catching her limp body just as she collapsed. Josephine and Cassandra gasped as Bubs barked a final time. Maker, she was as light as a feather.

Alaran began convulsing. Cullen rested her on the floor and turned her over on one of her sides, just like he had been taught. "What is happening?" Josephine asked shrilly, panic in her voice. 

"She is having a seizure," Leliana responded with controlled calm. She quickly left the room, hopefully to fetch somebody. Even then, Cullen knew that not much else could be done. All he could do was watch as she gagged and gasped, as bloody foam trickled from the side of her mouth and smeared onto her chin and cheek.

Leliana returned with Madame Vivienne. "Oh, dear," she said before crouching down and wiping away the pink foam with the back of her hand. "Cullen, get that ghastly ornamental fur off your shoulders and put it under her head. Quickly, now."

"Should we put something in her mouth? She may bite off her tongue," Cassandra prompted, her fear sounding like anger.

"No. Too many souls believe that's helpful, but it isn't," Vivienne replied. 

"She's turning blue in the face," Josephine said tearfully, covering her mouth. 

"The Herald will be fine, Ambassador Montilyet," the Grand Enchantress assured with an air of confidence. "Seizures are frightening, but not life-threatening in most situations. I take it she hasn't had one, before?"

"Not with the Inquisition, no," Leliana said, crossing her arms and looking intensely down at Alaran. "If she has, it hasn't been in public."

Vivienne gently caressed Alaran's face, making shushing noises. "She will be disoriented for a while after. I would suggest that we move her to a bed where she can recover, but we can't have anybody seeing her weak, can we? Not when we're so close to sealing the Breach."

"No."

The seizure started to subside. Cullen let out a small sigh of relief as color started to return to Alaran's cheeks and she began to breathe somewhat normally. There was a rasp to her lungs--it didn't seem to be associated with the seizure itself.

Worry took a stronger hold on his heart. 

"No, dear, stay down," Vivienne instructed as Alaran tried to get up and move around. She was still thick with disorientation. Her violet eyes swiveled and darted around the room, not comprehending what she saw or the circumstance she was in. It was a while before she was able to even speak. Bubs lay by her side, doing only what he knew how to do.

"What is your name?" Vivienne asked.

She swallowed and said in a scratchy voice, "Alaran."

"Where are you?"

"A...at Haven."

"What is my name?"

"Vivienne."

"What is your foul-smelling dog's name?"

"Bubba."

"Count to ten for me."

"One...two...three...four...five..." She trailed off, but was brought back by the enchantress.

"What's after five? Come now, dear."

"Six...s-seven...eight...nine...ten."

"Very good."

They went through a series of small tasks and questions before Alaran was comprehensive enough to sit up. Vivienne again wiped away the excess spittle around her dry, berry-colored lips with one hand and supported her head with the other. "Cassandra, go fetch some water. Cool, not cold. Open your mouth, dear. Let's see if you bit anything."

Alaran did so and Vivienne checked inside. Without so much as wrinkling her nose, she smelled the Herald's breath. Her expression hardened into a sheet of ice. "I know," Alaran whispered, staring at Vivienne with cheerless eyes. "I know."

"What is it?" Cullen questioned. He was gripping the hilt of his sword tightly from the stressful ordeal. 

"The Herald has been keeping secrets," Vivienne said in a clipped tone. "Secrets she should not have kept from us."

"What else...was I supposed to do?" Alaran said to nobody in particular. Cullen didn't understand what the two women were implying, but...surely Alaran wouldn't refrain from informing them of a serious matter.

Would she?

Cassandra soon came back with a wooden mug filled with water. Vivienne was the one who took it and slowly tipped the contents to Alaran's mouth. After a few sips, the Herald looked at everybody who was surrounding her. "Thank you for all of your help. I'm sorry to have caused such a commotion."

-

I was confined to my quarters for the rest of the day. It a drag, but how could I argue against those who sought to trap me for my own well-being? I literally had a  _seizure_ in front of my advisers. Vivienne had smelled my breath, and in doing so smelled the odor that lung cancer caused. And since  _she_ was the almighty enchantress well-versed in alchemy and medicine, she had authority over the matter.

Word had probably spread to the Inner Circle, by now. Since when did we even  _become_ an Inner Circle? There were plenty of other people I had recruited for the Inquisition, but they weren't traveling with me or getting to know who I was. 

I was writing out a letter to Queen Anora to express my gratitude for her mercy upon the mages when there was a knock on the door. Bubs lifted his head from where it rested on my outstretched legs.

"Come in," I called, not looking up from the letter. I was using a bed tray to do my writing, which meant I had to try extra hard to not make my print go crooked. 

The person was Blackwall, surprisingly. He stepped in sheepishly, holding something behind his back. "I, ah, heard you were unwell, my lady. So I brought...erm..."

He brought what he was keeping my my sight in front of him. My smile was genuine and crinkled my eyes. "Flowers," I said happily, "I love flowers."

Blackwall closed the cabin door behind him and stepped forward, handing me the small bouquet. They were just mountain flowers that arrived in early spring, but their vibrant colors warmed my spirit. "Thank you, Blackwall." I placed them on the table tray and looked to him. "Hey, something has been on my mind for a little while. Something about you."

The Warden stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Yes?"

I fixed him with an hard gaze. "I think I'm going to start calling you Warden Gordon. It sounds much funnier that way."

He froze for a moment before breaking down laughing. "Maker, please, no. I'll never hear the end of it from Sera. Can you imagine the torment?"

My own laughter turned into a few abrupt coughs. "Ah, jeez," I muttered when it subdued, leaving a raw ache in my chest. 

"Are you in pain?" Blackwall asked lowly. I was quiet for a short while before I answered.

"Yeah. But it's not so bad."

Before Blackwall could say anything else, the door slammed open and Sera loudly entered. "Wot the focking fock, Ally?"

Behind her, Iron Bull angled his horns to duck under the entryway. "What she said, Boss," he rumbled. "Heard you took a little spill."

"Something like that," I said, picking up one of the flowers from Blackwall's bouquet and twirling it between two fingers. Sera pushed Bubberston aside to take his spot, earning an irritated grunt. 

"So wot the fock happened?" she bluntly asked. "You're not eatin' enough, yeah, that's it. Been seein' how skinny you are, even for an elfy elf." Sera then looked down at her top, which was now covered in dog fur.  _"Eugh!"_

Bubs  _harrumphed_ haughtily.

Another knock, but this time the knocker didn't wait to receive permission to enter. Varric Tethras strode in, promptly followed by Dorian Pavus. I sighed longer than necessary and put my table tray off to the side. Any more work most likely wouldn't get done. Not with these knuckleheads here.

"How're you doing, Al?" Varric asked, taking up a seat on the other side of Sera. He grimaced at the layer of short, wiry Mabari hair on the blankets, but didn't let that stop him.

"Good," I readily replied. "It's nice to be off my feet, but you know how I can be such a busy-body."

"I'm sure it's torture," the dwarf deadpanned. 

"Madame de Fer sends her regards, Herald," Dorian said robustly, giving me a vial of thick, black goop as he spoke. I made a face.

"If she thinks I'm taking it, she'll have to force me to do it herself." My arms crossed beneath my breasts and I turtle-frowned. Dorian sighed and placed it on my nightstand.

"Why do you have to be such a child, Alaran?" he asked with exaggerated woe. Iron Bull took it upon himself to uncork the vial and take a whiff of the contents. He immediately cringed.

"Wooh, Boss. That reeks like sweaty dwarf ass."

"I'll be the judge of that," Varric piped, reaching over to take the vial from Bull. His expression was similar upon sniffing it. "Ack. No, it's worse. Like darkspawn ass."

"'Ere, lemme 'ave a go," Sera demanded. "I was in Denerim during the Fifth focking Blight. There was darkspawn stink for months after."

It was given to her. She smelled deeply and then gagged.  _"Blegh,_ definitely darkspawn ass. Maker, wot did that bitch cook up in that fancy-shmancy cabin of hers?"

"Speaking of which," Dorian said dryly, "you should run along and fetch the enchantress, Sera, since Alaran feels so obliged to refuse her concoction."

"I'll throw it up, I swear," I refuted, but Sera narrowed her eyes and looked to the Vint. 

"Will it help her?"

"Oh, most likely."

With a mighty groan, Sera rolled off from the bed and walked to the door. "Oi, Ser Bubbernubs, come with me."

My Mabari stood up and trotted on after her. I began to stop them with an exclamation, but that only produced a few hacking coughs. 

Varric gripped my knee and waited for my spell to pass. I eventually waved him off and croaked, "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Sure don't sound like it, Boss," Bull murmured. 

I rested my head back against the wall I was propped up against, trying to resist the sigh in my chest. If I let it out it would only result in another stream of coughing. "So," Blackwall said, trying to get out of the awkward, somewhat tense silence. "Heard you delivered a baby the other day."

The sweet memory of helping a family receive an addition of joy brought a new smile to my lips. "Yeah. Lil' Dessa. She's going to grow up to be a cutie."

"And with her mother by her side, too," he added. "You continue to impress me, Herald."

I gave a self-righteous smirk. "It's what I'm here for. Impress others and make witty remarks. Sixty percent of the time, it works every time."

"Do you ever make any sense?" Varric chuckled, but it was forced. Whenever he was worried he aged about a hundred years. Okay, maybe not a _hundred,_ but it certainly highlighted the worry lines he always tried to cover with an easy smile and a sarcastic comment.

I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. I could only imagine what I looked like, propped up in bed with my braided hair slung over one shoulder. The nightgown I was dressed in hung from my chest and shoulders, revealing sharp and protruding collar and chest bones. There were probably dark circles under my eyes, and instead of a porcelain complexion I most likely had taken on a gray hue. That always happened whenever I was sick or drained of a significant amount of blood.

Yeah. They all saw I was sick.

Sera soon returned with not only Vivienne, but Cassandra as well.

My groan was grating. "My dear," the enchantress said as she took the dark concoction and towered over me like a damn high dragon, "do not make me force this down your gullet."

I clamped my mouth shut and turned my head away. I was  _not_ taking anything, even if my life depended on it. 

How childish was I?

Vivienne grabbed my head and forced it straight, her manicured nails poking my skin. "Blackwall, Varric, Bull, Cassandra...hold her down. Dorian, Sera, take her legs so she doesn't thrash and wind up choking.

"Don't you  _dare--"_ I started, but in my defiance Vivienne snapped her hand down to my mouth and kept it open. I immediately began to flail, but my so-called "friends" heeded her instructions and pinned my arms, abdomen, and legs to the bed. 

"You survived the fall of Kirkwall, faced demons, bandits, and an assortment of evils, yet you cannot simply drink a potion? I'm rather disappointed in your famed strength and will."

I stuck my tongue out to try and block Vivienne from pouring the demonic bile down my throat. Magic danced in her eyes.  _Ha! Magic doesn't work on me! What a du--_

A needle controlled _by_ magic rose up and jabbed my tongue. I yelped and instinctively withdrew, tasting blood in my mouth. She took the chance jam the vial between my lips and pour the contents inside. I screamed and felt vomit rise in my throat at the absolutely  _disgusting_ taste of the liquid. "Swallow, dear, else you'll still have to swallow it  _and_ your vomit."

She was right. Dammit, she was right. 

I swallowed, gagged, and swallowed again. It burned my throat and stomach and holy  _hell_ what kind of monstrosity did she brew up? 

When Vivienne released her hold on me I gagged again, face twisting and scrunching. "Y-you poisoned me," I sputtered. "You fucking poisoned me."

The statement was untrue, however, because I already felt some strength restored to my body. Once everyone else let go, I scowled at all of them. "And you, you all  _betrayed_ me."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. That's what  _I'm_ here for," Dorian said, wagging a finger at me in chastisement. I cast my gaze down to Bubs, who was panting happily. 

"And  _you!_ You should have attacked somebody! Protected me!"

He didn't even bother to look guilty.

"You need to continue to rest, dear," Vivienne reminded firmly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. "Stop pretending as though you have recovered fully from your seizure."

I ground my teeth together. "You didn't need to go announcing that,  _Madame de Fer."_

"I'm relinquishing you of a secret. You keep so many, I thought I was doing you a service."

"You had a...a seizure?" Varric asked in an indiscernible voice. "Al..."

To hear the disappointment, the heartbreak, was enough to snuff out any negative feelings I had. I closed my eyes and dipped my chin to my chest. "Yeah."

"What was the cause?" Iron Bull inquired reasonably.

_The cancer hadn't gone to my liver. It had gone to my brain._

"A number of things," I answered vaguely. Vivienne's potion was making me feel groggy and sleepy. 

"We had better leave her be, for now," Dorian said, coming to my rescue. He did promise to have my back, after all. "She's got a few busy days ahead of her."

Everybody remembered the Breach. The Mark on my hand. They compared what I would have to do in my current state.

Tension filled the air. 

"Alright, guys, get out," I said with a smirk. "Go to the tavern or something. Just don't be in here, stanking up my cabin with your sad asses."

"Such eloquent language, Herald," Vivienne quipped. "But we will oblige. Won't we, everyone?"

There was a murmur of dejected yes's. Varric was the last to leave, giving me a look that nearly broke my heart. When the door closed, I looked to my desk, where a letter to him waited inside. 

I hoped he would understand.

With Bubba comfortably at my side once more, I moved down so I was laying flat on my back. Maybe I would get to dream, for once. I missed Wis. But...maybe not. Maybe it was better that I didn't dream at all; I wasn't fond of the idea of reliving a nightmare of the future Redcliffe. 

If I was going to make it to the Fade, though, I was going to have a blast. I  _had_ to.

-

The kiss.

Solas had replayed it in his head too many times to count. The way her eyes brightened, her lips curved...the way the sickness seemed to be absent and forgotten...

Was it a kiss that signified that she forgave him? Or was it something more? Perhaps she only did it to rile him, to trick.

No. It was unlike Alaran to do such a thing. 

"You seem smitten. And bemused. Such emotions often go hand-in-hand, though," Wisdom said, idly stepping with the wisps that spiraled and spun around her ankles and feet. "Was it Alaran?" When he refused to reply, she drawled a lazy smile. "Oh, it  _was_ Alaran. What did she do? Come now, tell your dearest friend."

"It was nothing," Solas said. The spirit was not deflected.

"Did she give you a lingering hug? Hold your hand? Kiss you? Oh, she  _kissed_ you. Where? For how long? Did you kiss back?"

"I never knew you considered yourself to be a Spirit of Love," Solas said tersely. 

 "Oh, I'm a spirit of many things,  _lethallin._ This you should know." Her head suddenly perked up. "Ah! Wonderful! Her brain is whole enough that she can enter!"

"Surprising, considering she had a seizure today." His statement was darker than he intended. 

"She had a...?" Wisdom shook her head. "Never mind. That doesn't matter." She latched a hand on Solas' arms and drug him forward. "Now, you're going to go  _see_ her, because that's what she  _wants_ you to do. Because she doesn't want to be alone, and you two are the only daft people in this world who understand each other."

_"Wisdom!"_

"Shut up, Solas!"

The spirit then cackled as she found an opening in the Fade to reach Alaran. "What is it she always sang to make War mad? _Kiss kiss fall in love?_ Then she'd run away so she wouldn't get killed?"

Before Solas had the chance to make a remark, Wisdom pushed him through to Alaran's dreams.

-

I was here. In the Fade. Coherent and in control.

Maybe for the last time.

Since it  _was_ for the last time, I was going to make it worth my while. I was going to do every mother fucking thing I hadn't ever done in my life.

Wow, I  _swore_ a lot more than I did when I was younger, didn't I? It was Kirkwall's influence on me, most definitely. 

I put my hands on my hips and looked around at the neutral scene of the Fade. "Alright, you demons," I called like a high school football coach with a potbelly and a bald head with a goatee, "I know you all can hear me. So let's get one thing clear, alright? I AM DYING. Possessing me will do you no good. So DON'T come near me during my time here. And if any of you  _dare_ ruin Alaran's Fucking Fun Night, I'm going to tear your demon assholes a NEW ONE! IF YOU EVEN HAVE ASSHOLES!"

Silence was the wanted answer. I looked down at my Thedosian attire and smirked. "Shut up and drive time," I said to myself. The outfit rippled and changed into a skin-tight, Catwoman-esque suit. With a whim of my will, the Fade changed into an empty New York street, aglow with lights and neon signs. A nondescript Porsche with its top down pulled up, waiting for me to sit my sweet elven butt in its seat. I took a running start and slid over the hood of the car movie-style. 

It didn't really work.

I skidded and fell onto the ground. But I rebounded spectacularly and hopped into the driver's seat, turning the engine on and revving it. 

This wouldn't be fun without music loudly blaring. I cranked on the radio, choosing Rihanna's  _Shut Up and Drive._ Because how could I not?

The tires screeched on the road as I took off. I created wind that whipped my hair, and for some reason was wearing sunglasses, even though the city was purposefully dark. 

I screamed the lyrics as I randomly shifted gears that really had no effect on how I was driving. But the lights in the night began to blur, and a blossom of happiness formed in my laughter. It was a clear laugh, unaffected by damaged lungs or suppressed burdens. 

There was a ripple in my pocket of the Fade, and I paused in my small celebration to see who it was. 

"Solas!" I shouted as I pulled to a stop on the sidewalk. The elf was looking around at the alien surroundings when he heard me, and leaped back a couple of feet when he saw what I was in. "What're you doing here, bud?"

"I...am unsure, really," he said in partial confusion. "What place is this?"

"New York, New York," I stated grandly, tossing sparkles in the air for extra effect. "My  _home._ Well, my home on Earth. I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"My freaking life. And I'm going to  _do_ what I never had the chance to do, whether it be because of my parents, or my obligations, or my life, or my sickness, or the fact that I got  _sucked into Thedas."_ I popped my sunglasses up and gave a prize-winning smirk. "And I don't want to do it alone. So..." The passenger seat swung open. "Get in, Solas."

He regarded me with two intense grey-blue eyes for a few moments. I waggled my brows and shimmied my shoulders, lip-singing to the chorus of the song. Then, with a profound and ancient sigh, he awkwardly stepped in the car. I put my sunglasses back on and redundantly shifted the gear. Solas made a noise was we took off. "Don't throw up in my ride," I instructed with feigned arrogance. "It's my dad's."

It really wasn't, though. 

The statement made me loudly gasp. I whipped my sunglasses off and looked at my elven bud. The music switched to Tom Petty. "Eighties movie time!" I whooped, pumping both fists in the air. Solas was calling my name in a panic, but I paid him no mind. It's either ride or die with Alaran Lavellan.

New York warped around us, and then Solas and I were driving on the bright California coastline. I was wearing high-waisted shorts and a bright pink shirt that was tied in the middle of my stomach. My white hair was permified and my sunglasses were actually of use. Solas was dressed like Andrew McCarthy right out of  _Pretty in Pink._

"Man, this is bitchin'," I grinned. "Wisdom never thought it was  _wise_ if I threw an eighties party for the spirits."

"Is this your ocean?" Solas shouted over the rushing wind. I looked to the shimmering coastline. 

"Yeah! It's on the other side of my country! That's the Pacific!" I paused. "Wanna go down?"

"That is not necessary--"

I swerved, and all of a sudden our feet were in the cool water. I couldn't stop grinning. "Come on," I said, taking his hand in my own, "let's go swimming."

Then we were in bathing suits. I dove into the water and stroked until I was a few feet underneath. When I looked over to my left, I saw that Solas was beside me. So he knew how to swim after all. 

I kicked and spun, not having to worry about being able to breathe. The ocean transformed to my want, and soon we were gliding over vibrant coral reefs I had seen in the Caribbean during a family vacation. The water itself had transformed into the shimmering cerulean I remembered so vividly. I swum further in, touching the reefs with both hands and finally drifting to a stop on one. My arms gripped onto Solas' leg and I pulled him down beside me. For a while we just sat, basking in the endless thrum of the ocean. When I finally looked at my companion to leave, I saw that he was gazing back at me. My heart caught in my throat.

_No. Not now. We won't even have much more time together._

_So enjoy what time we have now._

My grin signified that it was time to go. I crouched and shot up to the surface. When our heads broke through, we were whirled to a different location. 

I leaned over a bridge and smelled the sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms. A stream flowed serenely beneath us In the distance, steep mountains blanketed in green bid us welcome. "Where are we, now?" Solas inquired somewhat breathlessly. He, too, was in awe of the sight.

"Somewhere in Japan. It was on the other side of the world from where I lived. It's probably not even an exact  _place..._ I just took what I had seen from pictures and videos and formed this." I breathed in deeply. "I always wanted to come here. But I always wanted to go many places. Perhaps I would even have done a semester abroad, or had the chance to travel the world and perform with other famous musicians. But alas, I was brought to Thedas before I could even attend college."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. I was already dying. Besides, I think Thedas was a good trade." I tilted my head over to him and smiled. He returned the expression. My smile turned into a smirk. "Speaking of which..."

The Fade flickered, and we were on a stage. I had donned a simple black dress. There was a violin and its bow in my hands. "Go to one of the seats." I pointed to the rows of empty chairs in front of me. Solas obliged, and was soon resting in a plush, red velvet chair. "Ready?" I prompted, bringing the violin to my chin. He gave a single nod.

The sounds were sweet in my ears. I found myself playing a rendition of Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 9 in A Minor--it wasn't the full thing, nor was it perfect, but man, was it _beautiful._

There are few other feelings one can experience in life that compare to hearing music that resonate with one's  _soul._ Playing, and playing with this much passion, reminded me yet again of why I loved music so. Why, out of all the professions I could have chosen, I wanted to play, to perform, to _inspire._

When I hit the peak, the pinnacle of the piece, I brought it all down in a crashing finish.  There was a roar of applause from an absent audience. The only actual audience member was still in his seat, face unreadable.

Then I saw it. A quick sliver of light that flashed beneath his eye. He flicked it away with a single finger before returning to a motionless state.

I didn't smile, but I held my head up triumphantly and thrust my shoulders back. "That, dear Solas," I said proudly, "is what I would have chosen to do for the rest of my life."

Then the stage was gone, and we were sitting in a one of my favorite diners I found in New York. "But man," I said, propping an elbow on the table that separated Solas and me. "What I miss the most is the  _food."_

He chuckled. "I understand."

"I'm sure you do. And even with everything the Fade can conjure, it just  _can't_ recreate taste, can it?"

"Sadly, no."

An eyebrow twitched upwards. "So, Solas...is there anything  _you_ want to see from my world? Anything at all? We could go listen to some crappy poetry, or hang out in an old English churchyard, or visit some wicked snowboarding slopes."

He tilted his head. "Take me to the place you feel most at home."

I narrowed my eyes in thought. Then I grinned. "You sure?"

"Of course."

The diner left us, and we were on a cloud, the world beneath our feet.

I shrieked with glee and fully stood, face wide and awestruck. The evening sun cast brilliant hues of lavender and pink and gold. "This, Solas,  _this_ is where I'm home."

When he didn't answer, I looked down and saw that the elven god of rebellion, the one they called Fen'Harel, was white with terror. He had his eyes closed and his jaw muscles strained against his cheeks.

"Oh, crapsicles," I breathed, crouching down next to him. "Are you alright? I had no...no idea..." I couldn't contain my laughter, "that you were afraid of heights."

"It is not a fear I often have to face," Solas said snappishly. It only made me laugh more. 

"I-I'm so sorry, but...here, come on. Stand up with me."

"Alaran."

"Give me a break, Solas. This is where I feel at most home, and by golly are you going to see its beauty."

I reached under his arms and hauled Solas up. "You--" I grunted as he made a noise. "Are--going to open--your eyes.  _Now."_

After three seconds Solas did. I cheered him on as he looked upon the world. Everything from the snowy mountains to the grassy plains beneath. Then he looked at the skyline, at the colors and configurations of the clouds. "Home," I said joyously. "My home is in the sky."

An idea, glorious in all aspects, popped into my head. I grabbed both of Solas' hands and stretched our right ones out while holding the left close to my stomach. "Your name isn't Solas, anymore," I deemed. "It's Sophie. And I'm Howl." 

"Alaran, what're you--"

We started to fall at a steady pace. Solas cried out as if he was in pain, but I didn't stop. "Start walking!" I laughed. The ground met us more quickly, and soon we were just above rooftops on a sunny day. "Like me! Look!"

"I don't see the point of this!" he shouted at me. 

"We're recreating a moment of a cinematic masterpiece! That's the point! Hurry, before we land!" We passed the rooftops and neared a street. Solas' legs jerked for a few moments before pedaling in sync with mine. "That's it! Solas, you're a natural! Beautiful! Just beautiful!"

"I insist that you stop patronizing me," he replied. I laughed again, and cheered as our feet hit the ground and we broke into a run. When we didn't slow, I shook free and turned the cobble-stoned street into a forest with a sharp draw of my hand. 

"And  _I_ insist that you stop being a fudge mudge and try to  _catch up with me!"_

Being an elf = running spectacularly fast. 

Being an ancient elf = running  _damningly_ fast

I heard roguish laugh too close for comfort and darted off to the side, leaping over a fallen tree trunk and descending a slope. Solas swiped at my elbow, but I jerked away in time to avoid getting caught. 

The forest switched into the streets of Kirkwall. The streets I knew by heart. It looked the way it should, before Anders' drastic call for change.

My feet skidded as I took a sharp corner into an alleyway that was only used for drunks when they needed to take a piss. Solas grunted in surprise as he sped past, but quickly rerouted his direction and once again caught onto my trail. I was in my Kirkwall outfit, again, complete with leg wraps, plain leggings, and a faded tunic rolled up at the shoulders. When I looked behind me, I saw that Solas was bare-chested and donned in emerald green leggings. His face was young and full of life. "Half-naked elf chasing me!" I screamed. "Somebody help!"

I shot into another crooked street, sticking a foot out to push myself back off the wall without crashing into it. The move proved fruitless, however, when a hand locked onto my forearm and yanked me around. My screeching laugh intermingled with Solas' snorting ones, and pitched us forward until we were on the shores that crashed against the beach on the outskirts of Kirkwall.

Solas and I rolled to a stop. I finally managed to fling him off of me and laid flat on my back, staring up at the rich blue sky I recalled so fondly. 

He was dressed in his apostate clothes, again. I understood why he changed attire in the middle of the pursuit; reverting back to a memory of his own during the chase was what most likely did the trick.

"What did you remember?" I asked, turning my head to the side to look at him. My fingers laced behind my head as I relaxed.

Solas stared up at the blue. "When I was young, my mother and I...we played something similar to what you and I just did."

The mention of his mother made me want to roll over and bombard him with questions, but I remained in my same position and spoke with the same tone of voice. "Oh? And what was she like, your mother?"

"She was the embodiment of virtue," Solas smiled distantly. "Her voice was soft, and she always had a vase of lavenders on our table. She was patient with me, even when I came home bloodied and bruised from a fight with the other children. That patience somehow remained intact when I returned with similar injuries beyond my childhood years."

"I bet she wasn't  _just_ patient with you when you were a teenage punk."

He chuckled softly. "No. My, ah, actions did not go unpunished."

"Your mom sounds like a cool lady."

"Indeed," Solas concurred. "You did not speak much of your mother. Is there a particular reason for that?"

"Well, it wasn't ever really brought up, and...well, she was an uptight bitch who only cared about herself. She was never loved by her own parents, so I think she just...never knew how to love me. Not that I'm making excuses for her, but...I did love her. I don't miss her one bit, but she was still my mom."

"And your father?" he asked, toeing the line to see how much it would take before I closed off. 

I sighed. "A corrupt and greedy man who was so consumed by money and power that he lost sight of what was real in life. I think he saw him in me, and he hated himself for it. But that's just my take on things. His problems didn't give him a pass to whack me around."

Solas grew rigid. "Oh, don't look so concerned. He finally stopped when I grew old enough to fight back. But...I remember sitting on his lap when he was at his desk, going over economic reports. We both drank out of juice boxes. And I remember how  _proud_ he looked at my first violin recital, even though it was played by a six-year-old. I just wish..." I bit my lip and gave a half-snort, half-sigh. "I don't know." 

A silence befell the two of us. I felt the seawater lap at my feet, and my perfect vision saw gulls circling lazily in the sky. 

Then I faintly smiled. "Thank you, Solas. For being with me. This was a blast. I think I may just--"

My body seized and I choked. The Fade cracked and crashed, and I was instantly separated from Solas. The last thing I heard was him calling my name.

Then I awoke.

-

"...Quickly! Get a towel!"

_Why did everything hurt?_

"...Roll her on the side."

_Was this it? Was I not going to make it til tomorrow? And the next day after that? The day that we were supposed to close the Breach?_

"No, sit her up. She must survive..."

_Was that Vivienne's voice? So the Lady of Iron did care, after all. I always knew it._

"...don't know what it would even do to her! It could worsen her condition!"

_Wait, what was going on? Were they trying to keep me alive?  Was that Solas' voice I heard? Or was I just imaging things?_

"...and is death better than that?"

_Ah, crap. They were real._

_Good._

_I couldn't die, just yet. Even if it meant I needed help in staying from it._

Something vile was poured down my throat. It was worse than what I had been given earlier today. But I gulped it down the best I could, anyways, and hoped that I wouldn't aspirate it. 

Death began to ebb away, receding with the darkness. I first saw a warm glow, then the dark brown of my cabin rooftop. Then figures...familiar figures, focused into solid forms. 

"It worked," somebody breathed. Cullen?

"She's stable, for now," Vivienne announced, pressing a hand to my forehead, then to my chest. "But she needs to be under constant supervision. I will make another brew of the medicine just in case more fluid builds up."

Somebody was holding my hand. "I'll stay." It was Varric. His voice was void of everything he usually held so boldly.

"How did you know she was in danger, Solas?" Leliana asked.

"I sensed her distress in the Fade," was his smooth reply. 

"Thanks to you, we still have a Herald." The sentence came from Cassandra. "We mustn't tell anybody about this incident. The people cannot lose faith."

"The people? Or you?" Solas said back, but not unkindly. 

I weakly turned my head to Varric and tried to smile at him. It only seemed to break his heart even more.

Even if they hadn't been told of the condition that would lead to my ultimate demise, by now they knew. I saw it in their faces.

And they saw it in mine.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I cranked out another chapter??? Now my sleep schedule is all messed up?? And I'm sorry if there are like a bajillion spelling errors??? It's late.
> 
> I've been looking forward to writing the Al/Solas Fade sequence for a while, now. I hoped others enjoyed it, too. 
> 
> Stay lovely <3


	34. Popping A Cap in the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al's time to shine

"Sera," I said, examining my braided white hair, "do you consider yourself a good hair stylist?"

"Huh?" she grunted as she sketched in the notebook I had gotten her as a gift a little while back. 

"Hair stylist. You think you could give me a nice look?" I flipped my braid around a couple of times for good measure. "I'm kind of sick of this. All it's ever in is a braid."

I finally caught her attention. "Wot?" she said with an impish grin. "You wanna chop all your hair off? Josie will have a  _fit."_

"Josie, while a vital member to this Inquisition, is not my mother," I reminded shortly, then coughed dryly a few times before continuing on. "So what's it going to be?"

Sera rolled up from her spot on my bed. "You're shitting me, right? There's no focking way the Herald of Andraste wants me to give her a haircut."

"Do it," I smirked. 

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in a chair, draped in a sheet that tied at the hollow of my throat, and Sera standing behind me, shaving the base of my scalp. I watched from the corner of my eyes as white locks drifted in clumps down my shoulders and front. Sera whistled as she worked, and I sat quietly listening. One of my feet gently tapped against the floor to the rhythm. 

I was going to close the Breach, tomorrow. It was struggling to sink in, so I decided to ask about something else. "How's Cullen holding up? I know tensions were pretty high between the apostates and former templars, last I checked. And since I can't freaking go anywhere, I have no idea what's going on."

"Red told me you would be askin' stuff like that," Sera said back. "Told me that if I told  _you_ anythin' that'd make you wanna get up and do stuff,  _I would pay."_ She said the last bit in a horrible Orlesian accent. 

"Oh, come on," I whined. "Tell Ally a thing or two 'bout the dealings of the outside world."

"Nope! You ain't gonna get nothin' outta me."

I grumbled and folded my arms under the sheet. Sera gave a final  _snick_ and dusted my hair onto the floor. "There. All finished. Hope ya like it. If not, then you're gonna pretend you do, anyways."

"Gimme," I said, motioning for her to hand me a mirror. She slapped it in my palm and, after a moment, I held it up to my face.

I was gaunt and gray, as usual, but my hair was now piled on top of my head. An undercut encompassed the back of it. "Sweet," I grinned. "I always wanted a hairdo like this. Thanks, Sera."

"You're welcome," she said with a triumphant bob of her head. I untied the sheet and stood, letting my hair loose and giving it a few shakes before redoing it into some sort of half-braid, half-bun updo. Sera returned to her place on my bed, picking up the her piece of coal that already smudged my blankets. 

With a loud sigh I rejoined my spot, crawling back under the blankets. It was a good thing, too, for not two moments later was there a knock on my door, followed by the entrance of Madame de Fer. "Good day, Herald," she greeted airily. I made an ugly face at the sight of her. More specifically, at the potion in her hand. 

"No, not good day, Vivienne. You just ruined it. I am  _not_ going to--"

Vivienne shoved the potion in my mouth. I knew it was coming and gripped both of her wrists with my hands. My frail, weak hands that couldn't win against the woman composed of magic and steel.

I gulped the potion down with a glare. At least I no longer gagged multiple times. Now it was down to a twisted grimace and a Studio Ghibli shudder. The gang called it Tears of the Broodmother, because it was just that awful.

She checked my temperature. "You're running a slight fever, dear. How are you feeling?"

 _Like I'm dying,_ I wanted to snappily reply, but found that I couldn't because...well...

I actually was.

"Alright, actually. Just a bit of a headache, but...oh! Hey! Do you like my new haircut?"

Vivienne flatly hummed in response. I smirked and leaned back against the wall. "I'm feeling well enough to go outside, you know."

"Slim chance of that happening, my dear. You must conserve every ounce of strength for tomorrow."

"But  _Viv,"_ I whined childishly, "I don't wanna. The Inquisition is probably falling apart without me. I need to be the voice of witty reason!"

"And you believe the apostates would listen to anything other than they want to hear?" she scoffed coldly. "You may be charismatic and attract natural audiences, Alaran, but not even you can calm the disruption they're causing."

"Oh yeah? Wanna bet?" I threw the covers off and stood up straight. "Oi, you can't leave!" Sera exclaimed, scrambling from her spot on the bed. I reached for a sash and a vest and put both on. 

"You are not leaving this cabin, Alaran," Vivienne said dangerously, stopping me in my path. I threw my scarf and jacket on. Already the world was a bit tipsy, but I gritted my teeth and reached for my boots. 

"Watch me," I growled. "You may think the apostates won't listen to reason, Madame de Fer, but you fail to realize that they just won't listen to  _you._ How must that feel, I wonder? All that power, and you just--"

I sucked in a breath and pulled up short. Now was not the time to give the woman a piece of my mind. Not when she had done so much for me.

"Vivienne," I said evenly, "let me have this one. Let me help. Let me lead."

She considered the ramifications of either forcing me to stay or letting me go. I didn't let my gaze drop until she gave an irritated puff and nodded. "Thirty minutes, dear, but if I see so much as a tremble in your body I won't hesitate to drag you back here."

I gave a half-bow in gratitude and moved to get dressed. "Where'd ya get that big ol' scar on your leg?" Sera asked as she looked at my bare thigh contemplatively. I soon covered it back up when I pulled on a pair of thick leggings. 

"A demon in Kirkwall. Nearly bled me out."

"Wot, when the Chantry exploded?"

When my fingers were too slow in fastening my vest, Vivienne  _tsked_ and did it for me. "Yeah. It nearly tore the Veil apart, too, and let loose an ass-ton of demons."

She leaned forward and propped her chin on two hands. "Did ya see it? The explosion?"

My face must have looked dark, because she grimaced and said, "Sorry. Won't bring it up again. For a while. Maybe."

"Nah, it's fine. Yeah, I saw the explosion. It nearly singed my eyebrows off."

"You were that close?"

"Yep."

"Wot for?"

I pushed my lips to the side for a moment, contemplating whether or not I really wanted to talk about it.  _Eh, why not?_ "I had my inklings that Anders was up to something long beforehand, but I just...never really did anything about it. The day I realized he was going to do it was when I remembered that Sebastian... _King Vael..._ was also in the Chantry. Pulled him out just as it started." 

"Whoa...Varric never told us  _that_ part of the story."

I snorted and shrugged on the jacket that was once his. "I don't think I even  _want_ to know what part of my so-called story he did tell."

Before I could turn and go, Vivienne grabbed hold of my jacket collar and kept me in place. "One moment, dear. You need a bit of makeup to cover your ghastly appearance."

My mouth opened to argue, then closed. She was right, in a twisted sense. In my position, appearances  _did_ matter. So I sat down and let her apply a bit of rouge that didn't look too comical on my cheeks and some kohl around my eyes and eyelashes. "Do I look pretty, _madame_?" I asked when she finished.

"No, but you'll manage."

"Wow. I love you too, Viv."

The enchantress glanced at me with an ounce of bemusement at my statement of affection. Then she was wearing an impenetrable mask once more. "I suggest you use your time wisely, Herald. Thirty minutes begin now."

Not two seconds later I was out the door, breathing in the chilly Haven air and feeling it sap away at my strength. But I powered on, right to the Chantry and up to the arguing crowd.

"We must have order!" I heard Cullen shout among the multiple other shouts.

"I thought we would be safe with the Inquisition!"

"The templars still hound us like we're abominations!"

"The mages think they can do whatever they want without consequences!"

"How do we know if they aren't all abominations?"

People didn't take notice of me when I first parted through. To them, I was just another elf that was joining the myriad of fear and hate and ignorance that had gathered in one ugly brew. 

I reached the center. Fiona, Cullen, Cassandra, and a few other high-ranking people on both sides of the spectrum were gathered. 

None of them looked happy.

"Where is the Herald in all of this?" Fiona demanded to know. "Does she even know what is happening? The templars still think they have the right to control our every thought and action!"

"The Herald is preoccupied," Cullen answered testily, "and that is not--"

"One of them tried to Dispel a group of us the other day! Just for their own amusement!"

"I assure you, this is--"

They only noticed that the crowd had fallen silent when it registered that I was standing in their midst. Cullen glanced down at me, looked away, paled, then snapped his head in my direction. "Herald! You're--"

"What is the issue?" I asked evenly, making the steel in my voice clear and concise. 

Three or four voices rose at once. I held up my left hand to silence them. "Return to your quarters or designated stations," I commanded to the apostates and former templars. "Problems will not be solved with incessant shouting. And if any of you wonder why the other counterpart is here, look to that." I pointed to the Breach, its green colors reflecting off snow, ice, and every piece of metal for miles. "That is  _our_ sky, and it is up to  _us_ to close it and restore the order it has disrupted. If your main goal here is to further enhance that disorder, then you do not belong here. Because whatever we were before, we are now the Inquisition." Cassandra's eyes glowed with...pride? Faith?...as she heard her words coming out of my mouth

My small speech seemed to echo across the mountains themselves. How long had it been since I spoke this loudly? Did people know I had a voice that could carry? The level of volume at a price, though, and I felt a tremor in my knees. Damn. Vivienne would drag me off by my ear if I didn't get somewhere indoors and seated. "All of you," I said to the people that were at the eye of the storm, "Let us discuss this indoors. There we can be seated and civil."

Civility was needed, because Fiona didn't trust Cullen, Cullen didn't trust Fiona, Cassandra was getting angry from helplessness, and I didn't have the strength in me to fight.

Now that I was finally here, the leader of the mage rebellion gave a nod of agreement. "As you say, Herald."

I looked to Cullen to get a similar statement from him. He was, after all, the ones the former templars looked to. After a heated moment, the commander breathed through his nostrils and said, "Of course, Herald."

We walked inside the Chantry and straight to the War Room. It was the only place that we could really use. There were so many refugees, now, that they had all overflowed into the building's extra rooms and even closets. Something needed to be done about it.

But I had, what, twenty-five minutes left? And all of that time would be spent trying to get Cullen and Fiona and the rest to come to a concession--which, as much as he was my friend, wouldn't be easy. Because even though we had a healthy friendship, our viewpoints were very...different, each for good reason.  

Ugh.

-

"Al, Al, are you okay?"

Varric held a bowl in front of me as I wheezed and hacked blood and bile into it. One of his hands rubbed my back soothingly. 

I choked out the last bit of fluid and leaned my head against the dwarf's shoulder, panting and wiping away the last bit of gunk from my lower lip. "Ack," I grimaced, looking at the familiar miasma I had just upchucked. "Gross. But...yeah. I'm, uh, _finer_ now."

"It really is," Varric agreed, putting the bowl on the nightstand. 

"Sorry you have to see me like this," I apologized. Varric pushed back the clump of damp white hair that was sticking to my forehead. 

"Ah, don't be. You've seen us all at our worst and took care of us. Now it's time to return the favor."

He leaned me back and lifted a cup of water to let me take a few sips and wash out the burning, metallic taste in my mouth. Tonight was a rough night, which didn't bode well for me. The Breach was supposed to be closed tomorrow--well,  _today,_ technically. It was well past midnight, and we were supposed to close the Breach mid-morning.

"Varric," I found myself confessing quietly, "I'm so tired."

"I know, Al. I know. Just hang in there a little bit longer, alright?"

My hum was weak and scratchy. "I miss Hawke, too. I haven't even heard from him in...forever. I miss everybody, actually. Don't you, Varric?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "But I don't miss the stupid shit we all had to go through."

I waved him off. "Nah, it was...all part of the story, right?"

"Suppose so, huh?"

We sat in silence for a minute or so. I half-dozed, but the smell of pine oil and a tavern reawakened by a sudden memory. 

My feet padded against the cool floors of the Hanged Man, slightly off-beat from my lingering limp caused by the wound on my leg. It was empty, for once, and a strange feeling settled on my heart. I gave a nod to the barkeeper who began his morning cleaning routine as if the Chantry hadn't exploded last night.  _Good for him,_ I thought to myself. At least there was one person in Kirkwall who managed to keep their habits undisturbed by the world around them.

I walked up to the second floor and crossed the hall to the worn door I familiarized myself with such a long time ago. I knocked in the usual  _rap-rap-raprapraprap_ fashion then let myself in without waiting for an answer.

Varric had packed up most of his things, already. He must have stayed up the whole night to do so. My assumption was confirmed when I saw him. There were dark circles under his eyes and prominent creases on his forehead. "Hello," I called with a faint smile. He turned to me and gave a smile of his own, but it was far heavier than mine. Kirkwall was his home, too. And he had to flee it.

"Hey, Al. How's the leg doing?"

I patted the injury concealed by trousers. "It's healing. Isabela did a good job." I took up a seat at the worn table, and smirked when I saw a carving of a crude penis done by the very same woman. "And you? Do you need any help getting things?"

"Nah, I'm having some people of mine pick up the rest of my stuff tomorrow." Varric jerked a thumb over to a few packs sitting in the corner. "That's all I'm taking with me, for now."

"Where're you going?"

He shrugged and sighed. "Rivaini will probably drop me off in Antiva or something. Don't really know, yet."

"Damn, Varric, I thought you just wrote about adventures. It looks like you're actually going to  _have_ one."

My joke didn't take. When Varric just looked away and rubbed the back of his neck stressfully, I bit my lip and stood to cross the room. He saw me coming and tried to keep me away by putting his hands in front of his chest and backtracking. "Maker, Al, just..."

He trailed off when I drew him in for a hug. All resistance fled, and he tightened his burly arms around my waist. "I'll miss you," I spoke just above a whisper. "I'll miss you a lot."

Tears burned my closed eyelids and an ache tightened my throat, but I swallowed and suppressed it. "I'll miss you too, Al," Varric said, and I heard him struggling to fight the same thing I was. When he pulled away, he looked up with sincere eyes and said, "You could come with me, you know. It'll be a lot of fun."

I smiled sadly and placed a hand on his stubbly jawline. "I need to stay, Varric. There are a lot of people who will need help. I can't just turn my back on them."

His eyes filled with self-loathing. "And that's what I'm doing, right? Turning my back on people who need me?"

"No, Varric," I replied firmly. "You have given this city enough. More than enough. I know you like to play as the character who's a selfish bastard, but we both know it's just an act." I planted a kiss on his forehead. "You'll be back, soon. I have no doubt about it."

"Why do you always have to be the voice of reason and reassurance?"

"Because I'm the character who reminds those around them of their value and worth. Can't have a good story without one." 

The weight in my chest was growing heavier. I let go of Varric and sighed loudly, looking around his room and letting everything sink in one last time. "I'm trying not to be nostalgic," I found myself saying, "but man, it's kind of hard to do that right now."

"I know the feeling." My ears twitched when I heard Varric rustling around in his pack. I looked over and saw him pull out his leather duster. The one he wore even when it was too hot and the one that he covered me with when I first arrived butt-naked in Kirkwall. Walking back over to me, he began speaking in that awkward, sheepish voice he always hated using but I thought was cute. "I-I, ah, I thought I should give this to you. For nostalgia's sake. It'll be too big, I know, and Kirkwall's always so damn hot, but--"

This time my hug was crashing and unrestrained. 

"We're a pair, don't you think?" I asked, back to the present and back to dying. 

"That we are, Al, that we are." Varric was silent for a moment, but I felt a question building in his chest before he even said anything. "Where did you come from, anyways? And why did that demon want you in the Deep Roads? I know you've given answers for both, but we've always known that they haven't been the truth."

"And here I thought I was such a good liar," I chuckled bitterly, my brain too sluggish to come up with a defense or another lie. I adjusted my position so I was leaning away from Varric and could see his face in its entirety. 

_Should I?_

_Why the heck not? I'm going to die tomorrow, anyways._

Wouldn't it be funny if I  _didn't_ die tomorrow?

"Are you ready for the truth, then?" I asked, eyebrow arching. 

"What, you're really going to tell me?" He quickly straightened and shifted to prepare himself. "Alright, Al, spit it out."

My fingers formed a temple on the bottom of my abdomen, and I put on the sagest expression I could manage.  _Here it goes. Finally, the truth. I'm telling the truth to somebody who deserves it._

"I'm from another planet."

The single phrase had been repeated thousands of times in my head, but saying it out loud was foreign and strange.

It earned a snort from Varric. "Don't bullshit me. Come on, where're you from?"

"New York City. Upper East Side. The only reason why I don't talk five million miles an hour is because I went to a fancy private school where they beat that out of me." 

My specificity threw Varric off-guard. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "What're...?"

I smiled wistfully. "Varric, just think about it. I don't talk like people here do. My speech is too casual and abrupt, and I use 'like' as a filler word too often. My jokes are different--my mannerisms in  _general_ are strange. You guys just tended to ignore it because I was likable and lost. I'm sure you just thought I was neurotic, too. I definitely wasn't normal back on Earth. Earth. What a boring name for a planet.  _Our whole universe was in a hot dense state..."_ I broke down into a few coughs, then lifted my eyes calmly back to Varric. The verdict I received was just as I had expected. 

He wasn't having any of it. "I think you need to go back to bed, Alaran. Try to get some sleep." There. He had used my full name, meaning he was serious. It was like he was my dad or something.

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly. "Fine. Take it as you will. But Solas knows. And Sandal. So does Bubs." I patted my sleeping dog's head. "Just know that mostly everything I've quoted or referenced hasn't been from the  _elves_ or the  _Fade--_ it's been from my homeworld." Settling back into the pillows and blankets, I looked up at the ceiling and added, "Bod--the hunger demon--wanted me in the Deep Roads because he knew where I came from. Corypheus sensed it, too, which is why he singled me out in Vimmark." My eyes shifted back to Varric. They were already half-lidded with exhaustion, and I sincerely hoped that I could rest for at least a couple of hours. "But despite where I've come from, Thedas is undoubtedly my home. All of you are my home."

Before I could properly see his reaction, sleep pulled me away to a calm black.

-

They let me sleep as long as I possibly could. It was Varric who awoke me, and it was Vivienne who helped me get dressed. She and I both knew the importance of appearance on a day such as this. Concealer ("It was the palest shade I could find in such a rustic place as this, dear"), kohl, and rouge were applied to my face. She allowed me to keep my coat on, but only if I wore something other than the three pairs out outfits I usually had on. My hair was braided on one side of my scalp and then drew into a bun. Simple yet noticeable was my whole motif, for the day.

It was when I was helped onto my mount and began the trek with Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, Solas, and the mages that I realized this was it. 

My shred of blue was waiting for me when I closed the Breach.

The only one I bid farewell to was Bubba. He was already heartbroken, but I made him promise that he wouldn't die because of it once I was gone. I didn't say goodbye to any of my friends. It just felt wrong to do so. They already knew. I only gave them a final wave and a winning smirk as I departed. They gave similar ones in turn. I etched that single image of them into my mind--no,  _burned_ it. They would not be forgotten by me. I owed them my life. Because of the so-called Inner Circle _,_ I was able to make it this far. I was able to steer my horse through the mountain path up to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the Fade's Asshole waited for me to seal it up. Gross.

It was as daunting as the first day I had seen it. I accepted my fear  _of_ it, but not the fear of what the result of closing it would be. I had faced death too many times in my life to shirk away from its inevitable grasp. 

Solas had not spoken more than a handful of sentences to me since our dream together. That kind of bummed me out. We had such a great time together in the Fade, and...

But perhaps he was only withdrawing so he wouldn't hurt more when I was gone. It was understandable, if not depressing. 

My mind shuffled through memories I had collected over the years. I recalled the hours after I had landed in Kirkwall, surrounded by people who would soon become my foundation. There were the days on the coast, collecting spindleweed by myself and being shaded by the giant floppy hat I got so much crap about. That time when Anders got pissed when he couldn't heal the gouges on my back after falling off the rocks to avoid being impaled by a Qunari spear. When Garrett and I shared late-night meals because neither of us could sleep. Traveling with Bubberston and being awed by the brilliant landscape of Thedas. Seeing smiles on the countless people I had helped. Eating meals with everybody in the Hawke Estate's backyard. Playing cards with Sera. Discussing weaponry with Bull and Blackwall. Quietly talking with Cassandra about her faith in the dark of our tent. Sprawling out under the stars and being completely helpless to their striking beauty.

I would miss this place. Before, on Earth, I thought it was okay to give up and become numb to everything around me. I was glad I resisted the temptation to do so here before it got out of hand. A second chance had been given to me, and I would not make the same mistakes I did in my other life. I lived, let myself love and be loved, I hurt and was hurt, and grew from it all. 

"Herald?" 

My reminiscing faded when I cast my gaze down to Cassandra, who was keeping pace with me from my mount. There was distress on her face. Distress and frustration. 

"Yeah?"

"What are your thoughts?" When she looked back up at me, I saw that she  _needed_ to hear what I was thinking. It was her, after all, who put me in this position, who started this organization to help seal the one thing we were headed straight towards. "Are you...fearful?" The question implied something deeper.  _Is it alright for me to be afraid, Alaran? If you aren't then why should I be? Have I sent you to your doom?_

I faintly smiled at her. "Of course I am. But fear has never been something to stop me, though I rightly should have let it at times. What was that one statement I heard so long ago? 'I see what must be done, and I do it.'" Cassandra's eyes gleamed. "The choice was always mine, fear and all." My eyes drifted to the blurry Frostbacks jutting into the pristine sky, and I sighed as best I could without breaking into a fit of coughing. "With or without the Maker, I know that this was meant to be. And I will gladly go to the Void and back if it means helping Thedas. This place is, after all, my Home. I care deeply for it, despite its flaws and problems. And I care even more deeply about the people who call it theirs, also. So, yes, I'm afraid. But I remember all the reasons why I shouldn't be, and I...go forward. To the giant green butthole in the sky."

My meaningful words were ruined by my last sentence. Cassandra made her trademarked Disgusted Noise and those who were close enough to hear what I was saying gave varying snorts, scoffs, and sniffs. I straightened in my saddle and proudly looked on. After all this? I was still me. That was a great thing to know when embracing death. I had adapted and changed over the years, but  _I was still me._ The sickness hadn't won. The burdens hadn't won. Not this time around.

I got off my mount when we reached the base of the ruins. The Breach was nearly on top of us, and the surrounding sky was now gray and ominous. A jolt of adrenaline pumped through my veins, making me clench my fist and curl my toes before beginning the short walk to ground zero of the temple. Cassandra and Cullen flanked me, making sure I didn't trip or fall as we descended the crumbling, crooked staircases. My heart began to pick up its pace as we dropped down to the leveled area. My neck strained as I looked straight up to the Breach. Perhaps if my eyesight were clearer, I'd be a tad more daunted. But I was too arrogant in my abilities to zip that sucker right up to be terrified.

Jaw clenching, Mark crackling, lungs aching, feet shifting. I was practically buzzing with resolve as I waited for Solas and Fiona to guide the mages to their designated positions. It didn't take long. As soon as the elvhen apostate joined us once more at the center of the blast site, I turned to all of them one final time. 

And I smiled. 

_Into darkness, unafraid._

The saying I thought I whispered to myself was accidentally said aloud. Several faces brightened and fell all at once. I then made a face. "Ugh, forget I said anything. Wouldn't want to have  _that_ great of a moment, now would we?" I gave a nod to Cassandra. "I'm ready."

_Ready._

She walked a few paces away, shouting, "Mages!"

Solas joined her, lifting his staff to direct them. "Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!"

I stepped forward, lifting my palm upwards and watching cracks of energy swath it. As soon as I felt multiple wells of magic fill the air, I jerked it to the Breach and demanded that it heed my call. 

The  _power_ that bolted through me lifted my feet off the ground and attempted to drag me to its embrace. A veil of green surround me, muffling the scream that poured from my lips. Because the pain, the  **pain.** It amplified a hundredfold, and not even I could contain the side effect.

But the Breach was closing. I maintained the connection, though a dark film was coalescing in front of my eyes. It was held long enough for there to be a ripple in the Veil, then a deep rumble that shook the very summit. I halted my screaming long enough to force every ounce of energy I had left into my left arm. With a jerking motion, I broke the tie between the Mark and the Breach. The rumble turned into a high-pitched screech that threatened to burst my ear drums. 

Power jolted through my arm and nearly pulled it from its socket. I flew through the air, all life spent, and watched as the Breach wound tightly in itself before finally sealing. All of this was witnessed before I hit the ground.

Because when I hit the ground, I was dead.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters coming shortly! <3 Stay lovely, you guys.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	35. To Be or Not To Fucking Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After closing the Breach

"Or nah."

My eyes narrowed into slits.

I didn't  _care_ that I wasn't exactly dead. I didn't  _care_ that I was in a swirling gray area that most likely had no end to it. 

The only thing I cared about was that Hallah Lynne was standing in front of me.

Her large, slender hands were planted on two lean hips, one of which was cocked. She smirked crookedly at me and shouted joyously, "Surprise!"

 _"You,"_ I hissed, teeth literally baring. That only caused her smirk to grow.

"Yes, it is I. The one, the only, the Hallah Lynne. Your Personal Omnipotent Immortal." In an aside, she whispered, "Patent pending."

Hot anger boiled my blood. "Okay, _Om_ _nipotent Immortal,_ I know you knew about what was happening to me this whole time.  _Omnipotent Immortal,_ you chose not to use your almighty power to save me or _at least_ give a heads up. You threw me into this place, dusted off your hands, and was on your way, weren't you? But the moment I'm about to  _die,_ you just swoop in and save me, right? Because that's what you do? Leave me to suffer and then turn it all around at the last second?" I took a step forward, then another, until I was nearly toe-to-toe with the six-foot-plus woman with eyes too emerald to be mortal. "Well you know what? Why don't you just let me  _kick the crapper_ _?_ I've had enough of wondering when you would turn up. So let me have this one, yeah?"

Hallah leaned down, and I suddenly felt very, very small. I had basically told an all-powerful being to fuck off. "I don't think I will. Not just yet," she answered knowingly, gaze burning a hole in my will.

She then straightened and ran a hand over her jet-black Mohawk, her eyes wandering to our surroundings. "It's true, it's true...I turn up at the most inopportune times. It puts me on a lot of people's shit lists. But Alaran, you have to realize that I've never shown when you thought I would because you had the situation under control through your own abilities." Hallah's smirk dropped and her emerald eyes seemed to spiral into the past. "The rape...you have to believe me, Alaran, when I say that I pounded on the doors to this world to get to you in time. But the Universe is stronger than I am, by  _far._ And its grip on you overpowered my influence. I arrived only moments before entering your cell. You wanna know what I did during that time? I built an elaborate templar background just so Cullen could have me with him. The dude thinks he  _trained_ me when I was a recruit in the Order. He has memories of doing patrols with me. Everybody there does." Hallah's entire entity was sincere and sorrowful, and I couldn't deny that she really, truly cared.

My anger started to wane, but I forced it to stay. "And my sickness? You could have at least  _warned_ me. What the fuck, Hallah?"

Her arms folded, and she fixed me down with a hard, unrelenting stare. "You reaction would have been the same. Especially since you're older and wouldn't put me on a freaking pedestal. Besides, I couldn't have done anything about it. You were here so long that the Universe's original plan for you crept in once more. The timing though, as always, was the worst. I'll give you that."

Ah, shit. It was just as I had already assumed. Hallah read my thoughts and raised a surreptitious eyebrow. "See?"

"I still don't have to like it," I grumbled. "But what now? Have you brought--or kept--me here just to reveal yourself, then send me on my merry way towards death? Are you that tactless?"

A spider-like finger booped my nose. It made my face scrunch up in derision. "Not exactly. I have a plan. One that I won't reveal to you, because that may just ruin everything. Literally. You can be sort of a pill when it comes to deviating from the norm. But..." Hallah grinned lopsidedly. "I think I can get the Universe to finger the Pattern a little."

"Ew. Was that really necessary?"

"Yes." Her olive-toned head tilted, like she was listening for something. "Hey, you're trying to be revived. I think I can give you a little extra  _boost_ to get you through the night, so you won't  _really_ die, like, two minutes later after you get back."

The sentence suggested more than what was really being said. "Wait, what's going to happen through the night? Also, could you do something about my eyesight? And is the Universe like that weird little person like on _Full Metal Alchemist_ \--"

Hallah winked at me like she was some wise old wizard and sent me careening back to Life.

-

Cassandra was mid-compression when I came to. I raggedly groaned as my chest strained under the warrior's pressure. "She's alive!" I heard her exclaim, and there was a chorus of cheering that rang throughout the temple. 

"How do you feel?" Solas asked worriedly. He was crouched next to me, gray-blue eyes filled with relief. I wanted to get lost in them.

_Stop._

"Like I was used as a mop to clean the Hanged Man's floors," I mumbled in response. Cullen snorted.

"She's all there, it seems," he concluded. I was sat up by Cassandra and Leliana. 

"Cassie," I drawled, resting my head on the Seeker's shoulder, "you should make sure your compressions are a little less life-threatening, but good job. Thanks for bringing me back to life." Under my breath I mumbled,  _"Wake me up inside."_

She coughed to hide her embarrassment at my commendation. "It was nothing. I only knew how to do it by watching you."

"Well, by all means you did it right. You're the best."

"And your chest? You do not feel...ill? I feared it would only worsen everything."

I patted the sore spot where Cassandra's hands had been and turtle-frowned. "No. Not really. I actually...feel fine."

_Right. Hallah Lynne._

"Truly?"

"Truly truly. Now help me up."

Despite my sudden rejuvenation, I was still placed back on my horse as we descended the mountain path. I could feel the mages' excitement at their success, and Leliana and Cullen were already making plans for celebration. 

"You do not seem to be in high spirits, Herald," Solas said suddenly to me. I glanced down at him and switched to elven to secure our conversation.

_"The closure of the Breach will not go unnoticed. Haven is not yet safe. Thedas is not yet safe."_

_"And your health is suddenly brimming?"_ Solas said back, almost scornfully.  _"You are not yet well enough to take action, Alaran."_

 _"The Breach was supposed to kill me. We all knew that,"_  I replied, throwing a hint of contempt into my tone. _"_ _I w_ _as given strength to get me through the night, which leads me to believe that something is going to happen that requires me to spend it."_

 _"Given to you?"_ he repeated. Wariness had crept in his voice.  _"By whom?"_

"Uuuuhhhh." I doubted Solas would be very  _pleased_ if I told him of Hallah Lynne's involvement. He was, like, as old as balls, and probably knew her. And with Leliana so close, I couldn't afford dropping her name without it drawing attention.  _"The Maker?"_

He gave me a flat stare and turned his head straight.  _"Deflect if you wish, but your concern for Haven's safety is not misplaced. We should prepare as much as we can."_

_"Agreed."_

I shifted in my saddle so I was looking back at Leliana, who appeared to be nonchalant but was actually listening to every syllable of Solas' and my conversation. "Spymaster," I addressed, "we will not be celebrating tonight."

A cool expression remained on her face. "Oh? And why should we deny the Inquisition its triumph?" 

"You ever thought about  _who_ created the Breach? The Elder One? Sounds like a nasty person, from what we've gathered. They're probably not very happy at what we've accomplished today." My mouth formed into a hard line. "Let the residents celebrate, but the soldiers must keep post. No spirits on duty, and extra patrols. Send scouts through the area, as well. Just for the next few days."

Leliana glanced at Cullen, who had joined in on the discussion when he heard me discussing the Elder One. The commander gave a nod after a moment of contemplation. "Yes. It would be wise to do so."

"Explain to your soldiers the reason why they're on-guard while everybody else will be indoors. I don't want them to think that they're not appreciated; they're truly needed."

"Of course."

Hallah Lynne's emerald eyes flashed across my thoughts, nearly making me jump. Did she do that on purpose, or was I still reeling from the fact that I gave her a piece of my mind? Whatever it was, I had the feeling that something was going to happen  _tonight._ She hinted at it enough that I could soundly take precautions. And what was her damn plan? 

_Freaking immortals._

I glanced at Solas, and the thought repeated itself in my head. He, upon feeling my gaze, looked up and saw that I was curling my lip exaggeratedly at him. I wouldn't let my stare drop, Solas wouldn't let his stare drop, and it resulted in him tripping over a loose stone. "Ah!" he cried softly, and I gave a small fist-bump for my victory.

I wasn't going to let Solas cut me out that easily.

I would miss him.

Crap.

-

When I got off my horse Sera and Bubs crashed into me simultaneously. I was feeling so invigorated that I actually lifted the city elf off her feet and laughed as she gushed about how glad she was to see me. She--and everybody else--thought I would be carried back wrapped up in a white sheet. Next I hugged Varric. He pretended like he didn't want one, obviously, but deep down that was the only thing he cared about. 

Next were the "How're you feeling?" questions. They saw I had improved substantially. For the first time in weeks my posture wasn't slumped, my eyes weren't half-lidded, and I spoke like it wasn't an effort. It was all a little awkward, considering they hadn't expected me to live through the closure of the Breach, and especially not in the condition I was in. And I had no way to adequately explain to them just  _why_ that was. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I reassured. "I've felt better than I have in ages. But--hey, guys, listen to me--I need you all to be prepared."

"Prepared? For what?" Dorian prompted, sounding somewhat affronted. His eyes, however, shone with intrigue. I could always count on him to have my back. 

I pulled them off to the side while Cullen made it official to Haven that the Breach had been closed and instructed them to be ready for anything. "Oh, come on, don't be totally clueless. The freaking Elder One? You don't think he's coming to exact his revenge? I don't know the guy, personally, but I think he has a flair for the dramatic. I mean, do you remember Redcliffe--" I swallowed the sour memories that came with the mentioning of the twisted future. "Never mind that. But do you all smell what I'm stepping in?"

Blackwall was first to affirm. "Nasty analogy, but yes. Good thinking, Herald."

I clapped my hands together. "Alright, great talk, team. Now I'm gonna go get the thanking out of the way and see if I can scrounge up something hearty and Fereldan to eat." 

Before anybody else could stop me, I bowled my way through the group with Bubs at my heels. It was another thirty minutes or so before I was able to find food, and another twenty before I was able to sit down and stuff my mouth hole with a hot, chunky stew that was a little bland but filled my stomach with more content than had been in it for weeks. And it  _stayed_ down, too. That was the most glorious part of it. 

Varric, of course, soon found me. If he didn't I would have keeled over and died out of pure affrontedness. "So..." he drawled, prompting me to begin the conversation. Unfortunately, my cheeks were bulging with a mixture of soup and bread. I raised an eyebrow and bounced my shoulders up and down. "You closed the Breach." 

I gave a nod and swallowed, expecting a cough after doing so. Nothing came. "Yes, yes I did. Glad you're so observant."

When he shook his head in disbelief I finally looked past my own euphoria of eating and focused. Varric's eyes were still burdened down by something, and his speech was of forced nonchalance. "Al, this is..."

"Unexpected? Crazy? As if some omnipotent immortal dipped their hand in my life and skewed it?" I finished, the last few words sounding much more bitter than I intended. My specificity caught Varric off-guard, and I was given a bemused look. I waved my hands in blamelessness and continued eating. "Hey, just saying. But I can see where you're coming from. It's weird, yeah. But it seems that's the only abstract concept I attract. What a shame, isn't it, Bubs?" I looked down at my dog, who was drooling as he stared intently at my leftover hunk of bread. After a sigh, I tossed the food and watched it as glistening white teeth flashed before swallowing the bread whole. "Aw, come on, dude, you could've at least savored it," I whined. When I turned my gaze back to Varric, I saw something heavy in his gaze. "Alright, spit it out," I motioned. "Before you fizzle out."

After darting his eyes around the room a couple of times, Varric leaned in and said lowly, "What you talked about last night...Do you remember any of it?"

I leaned in close. I had cared about my secret long enough; now that I had spoken it, I really didn't give a flying fart if Varric or anybody had believed me. It was a twisted sense of triumph, but a triumph nonetheless. "Oh yeah. So you wanna ask more questions about my planet? It's pretty spectacular. Or my parents? My dad worked for the stock market and my mom was a closet pill-popper. We had our own private jet and went to the Bahamas every year just so I could be miserable someplace sunny." A winning smile was added before another spoonful of stew was shoveled into my mouth.

Varric stared at me. Stared at me hard. "I don't know half of the bullshit that came out of your mouth, but still know what it smells like."

"You're right. My mom wasn't a closet pill-popper. She did it right out in the open, sometimes."

"Al, just--stop. I don't know what's gotten in your head, lately--"

"Cancer."

"What?"

"Cancer," I repeated evenly. "It's the name of the disease I had back on Earth."

For a moment he couldn't decide whether to ask more questions or storm off. I watched with a vague curiousness, and shrugged when he scoffed derisively at me and stood to go. "Think what you want, Varric. But at least think." 

He paused, sienna eyes catching the glow of the fireplace I was seated near to. I tilted my head a fraction, wondering if he was going to say something. But he didn't, and walked away.

I looked at Bubs, who huffed with discontent. "That was some prime crock of shit, wasn't it, Ser Bubberston? Wasn't it?"

Bubba concurred. I shook my head and let it go. Varric's reaction wasn't unexpected, and I wouldn't let it hurt me. I had too much to worry about right now.

Like what I would say to Corypheus when we faced off.

Mid-afternoon came and passed in the blink of an eye. I walked with Cullen as we went over patrols for a while before meeting with Josephine to have emergency supplies ready for the people here if we were to flee on short-notice. After, I talked with Leliana about what her scouts had reported. There was nothing, yet, but they sighed a rather daunting storm approaching. Sera and Bull at some point tried to get me to go and hang with them and everybody else who was taking it easy in the tavern, but I respectfully declined. I even reminded them not to drink too much. They both laughed, but understood why I wanted them sober. Vivienne did a once-over on me to see how my health was, and was somewhat stunned that I was able to function after such a strenuous ordeal. My response was shooting gun-fingers at her while walking backwards out the cabin door. By the time I got around to Cassandra, Haven already had a large fire blazing in the middle of it with people dancing and celebrating. The stars were scattered across the night sky, twinkling at the view below. 

I walked up to the Seeker. She had her gaze fixed on the spot where the Breach used to be with a firm stance and her arms folded. While it no longer possessed the sheer terror it once had, I couldn't deny that it was still haunting. Maybe it would never fade, and serve as a reminder as to what was accomplished...and what greater dangers we may face in the future.

"Pentaghast," I greeted as I took up a similar position as she. Bubs sat on his haunches, ears fixed forward and alert. I could see the storm on the horizon, black and building against the night. It was a relief to have a bit of my good eyesight back, at least for a little while. I'll probably need it. But because of the storm I had Leliana draw her scouts back. It wouldn't sit well if they were harmed or killed from simple, changeable orders. And it wasn't as if they would be able to see anything in the weather.

"Herald," she returned, glancing her sharp eyes over to me before settling them on their original place once more. "Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed. We've reports on lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."

"You know how many were involved," I replied with a faint smile. "Luck put me at the center." My last sentence caused my smile to turn into a small grimace. It wasn't luck. It was some dinky Traveler who thought she knew what was best.

Cassandra didn't see my reaction before I smoothed my face into a veneer once more. "A strange kind of luck," she said. "I'm not sure if we need more or less. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory." Her eyes finally drew to mine and stayed there. "With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."

"I'll do all I can--"

Bubs bolted upright and started growling viciously. The bells started gonging, creating a heavy sort of horror that immediately caused panic. 

I rushed into action, not needing to ask Cassandra to follow. She was right by my side, and together we guided people into the Chantry as we made our way down to the gates. We had prepared them, but the shock of its abruptness had them all somewhat reeling.

"Cullen!" I barked when I saw the commander at the foot of the staircase that led to the gates. The rest of the Inner Circle had joined us, all dressed for battle. "Report!"

"Soldiers reported a massive force making our way towards us. The bulk of it is over the mountain," Cullen said back, eyes and voice clear and strong. He knew what he was doing. I knew I could trust his ability to maintain clarity no matter the circumstance. 

"Under what banner?" Josephine asked anxiously.

"None."

"None?"

"The Elder One," I whispered, unable to stop the chills of dread from running down my spine. 

"Do you believe it to be him?" Leliana prompted darkly.

"A hundred sovereigns says it is."

Nobody wanted to take me up on that bet.

There was a sudden pounding on the door, followed by an anxious, boyish voice shouting, "I can't come in unless you open!"

"There's a  _kid_ out there?" I shouted, and before anybody could stop me I had burst through with Cullen and Bubs at my heels. 

We came face-to-face with some giant, armored enemy. They raised the weapon in their hands to attack, but before they could there were multiple  _shink_ sounds. Soundlessly, the man fell to the ground in a bloody heap.

Then I was looking at a boy--maybe. Probably. No.

Spirit.

_How?_

"I'm Cole," he said, rushing forward. Most of his face was hidden under the large rim of a hat. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. But you already know. You've always known."

"The army. What is it composed of?" I asked rapidly. 

"The templars," Cole replied softly. "They come to kill you."

My blood turned to ice. 

_You could never save enough. Never enough._

"Templars?" Cullen repeated disbelievingly. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

"The Red Templars went to the Elder One." He lifted his head to pierce my soul with pale blue eyes. "You know him, and he knows you. You took his mages." Cole skittered away a few feet, fluidly pointing a finger to the crest of the mountains that walled Haven off from the rest of Thedas. "There."

"Oh, my god," I whispered to myself. "It really is Corypheus." Apparently a small part of me had  _really_ hoped it wasn't. And beside him..."Shit," I spat more loudly, "is that Samson, Cullen?"

"I believe so," the commander said grimly.

"He's very angry that you took his mages," Cole stated absently.

"Well he can go  _shove it,"_ I snarled, then faced the Fereldan next to me. I felt lightning in my eyes, and I embraced it. "Commander Rutherford, are the trebuchets loaded for launching?"

"Yes, Herald," he said back, body built with readiness. I gave a nod. "If we are to control this battle, we must hit them with everything we can."

"Then let's go."

Cullen pulled out his sword to address our forces who were awaiting orders. "Mages! You--you have sanction to engage them! That is Samson! He will not make it easy! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"

I drew my own weapon and joined the roars that poured from the ranks. A cold, harsh wind had blown in from the encroaching storm, carrying the stench of red lyrium. The Inner Circle joined me, waiting to rush forward with the soldiers. "Ready to rock 'n' roll, guys?" I smirked. 

"Ah, I always love the thought of  _dying,"_ Dorian bit, but it was harmless.

"This'll be fun!" Bull shouted, waving his giant battle ax around. "Let's kick some ass!"

"Let's," I agreed, then turned to charge. Snow began to fall, and my ears and nose were cold from the temperature. But I was alive. Alive and burning with vitality. 

My feet crunched under the snow as we ran to the nearest trebuchet. I shouted commands at the soldiers as everybody took up their accustomed positions. Mages in the back, rogues flanking, two warriors as defense and two warriors as offense. Blackwall and I were up front, it seemed, and we were among the first to see just who was attacking Haven.

"Maker's balls," Blackwall breathed beside me. "What...what are they?" 

The templars...they were aglow with something. Crystalline minerals jutted from their skin, their armor, their weapons. 

"It's red lyrium!" I shouted over the _thwick thwick_ of arrows falling from the night sky. They, too, shone with the crystals. "They're infested with red lyrium! Don't let them touch you! Archers! Mages! Hold them off before they get too close!"

Blackwall held his shield in front of the two of us as arrows embedded into the wood. He couldn't help but gag a little as the red lyrium took effect. Dammit. That's how everybody would react, as soon as the red templars became closer and closer. It would distract them, weaken them, and ultimately kill them.

"They're coming from the other side!" I heard Cassandra bellow. There was a sudden explosion on enemy lines, and I smelled the distinct rubbery smell of a pitch grenade. "Bubs," I warned as Blackwall and I advanced, "don't bite them. I'd much rather not have a red lyrium Mabari."

He pranced on his feet, understanding my command yet still ready to be unleashed. I took a breath, then another, and when I was ready, I yelled harshly,  _"Starten!"_

Thank you, freshman-level German class.

Bubba let out a guttural snarl that would have made most enemies tremble in fear, but these soldiers...there was no way they were human. Not anymore. 

Blackwall and I emitted warrior's cries and charged. Other soldiers who used heavy weaponry joined us. I glanced to my left and saw a young, trembling man who was no more than eighteen years. He looked back at me, and I  _knew_ that expression on his face. It had hope, but was mostly terror and adrenaline. But if the Herald of Andraste was beside him, then maybe, just maybe...he would survive this.

I forced myself to look forward, again, and put more power into my legs to get in front of him. Blackwall called my name, but I chose to ignore him. I would rather die with this much life to ensure that others could live, too.

The first Red Templar I tore into let out a nightmarish scream that made my ears ring. Then I was back, back in the future Redcliffe. The scream had the same layering that was in Varric's and Cassandra's and Solas' voices when they were infested. 

With another snarl I brought my mind back to reality and pulled my sword out, spinning from another blade and lopping off an arm. I bashed an elbow into the nearest face of a templar and moved into a defensive stance Fenris had taught me. It prepared me for the blow of another greatsword, but I used the momentum to twist and kick their stomach. It knocked them to the ground, and Blackwall dove in to pierce their neck with his longsword. 

A summoned wall of ice impaled several opponents, and a lightning bolts chained enemies into a string and sizzled them. A hideous odor arose from the charred corpses, making me remember how the Temple of Sacred Ashes smelled when I first got the Mark. 

I looked back to find the young soldier. He was currently facing off with a brutish creature that was composed almost entirely of red lyrium. His parries were sloppy, and any blows just glanced off the crystalline carapace. Going against that much tangible corruption was depleting him, and--

"No!" I screamed as the Red Templar knocked the boy back into the ground. I dug my heels in the snow and launched forward. Something inside my chest  _popped,_ but I shielded my thoughts from the sound and made it in time to divert the Templar's sword away with my own. My face was too close, though, and I felt my cheek slice on the blade.

I stumbled away and recollected myself within half a moment to go on the offensive. My sword moved in a flurry as I combated against the templar's brute force. The blows that I did get in only glanced off the crust of red lyrium. I was getting tired of the fight, and there was still much of the battle to go. As soon as there was an opening, I dropped my sword and leaped onto the Red Templar's chest, screaming wildly. 

 _"You don't have patience,"_ Fenris had instructed as we dueled.  _"You begin steady, but you drop strategy for a frantic burst. Balancing them is the only way you will ever win a fight longer than a minute."_

But I didn't have a minute. So I wrenched my hands into the templar's mouth and began pulling his jaw apart. My gloves were the only things that kept my fingers from shredding on their maw. 

It roared--oh, it  _roared,_ but mine was louder. I felt my unnatural strength take effect as I heard the jawbone displace itself. Another moment later there was a  _crack_ and the jaw came apart. The templar beat toppled backwards, and I tossed aside the appendage to pull out a dagger and bury the blade in its exposed throat. Hot blood soaked into my face, my clothes, and ugh, Varric was going to be pissed that the stains would take forever to get out. 

I leaped off and picked up my weapon, then held out a bloody hand to the soldier, who had, at some point, retched. But he clasped it and let me haul him up. "Remember your training," I told him. "Your shield is meant to take blows. Use it."

"Yes, Herald," he said shakily. I smiled at him and surveyed the battle. Everybody seemed to be alive, and the Red Templars had been taken down. I heard somebody shout, "Fire the trebuchet!"

I helped up another injured soldier and handed them a health potion I had stashed away in my coat. "There's another trebuchet that isn't working," Cassandra said as she trotted up to me. Her breath came out in puffs and her armor shined with the dim glow of flame and lightning from the storm. "Cullen is diverting the bulk of the Inquisition's soldiers to protecting other sections of Haven. Do you believe we can defend it long enough to see that it's fixed?"

She got a playful punch to the shoulder. "'Course we can, Cassie! It's--"

I bent over and hacked up blood. As soon I was finished, I angrily wiped the back of my hand and straightened. "--Going to be a piece of cake."

"Herald, you have done much for the day. It would be perfectly acceptable for you to rest--"

"No, no,  _no,"_ I said somewhat childishly. "I am going to see this through."

"It's best not to argue with her, Seeker," Varric sighed frustratedly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "If she wants to get herself killed, then so be it."

"That sounded, like, way sour," I said back as I tried to get out the metallic taste out of my mouth. Iron Bull wordlessly handed me a water skin to wash it out. Once I spit it back in the snow, I kept going. "You can either be a dick about it, or you can--"

"Whoa, whoa!" Dorian suddenly interceded. "Let's get to the trebuchet, shall we? As much as I'd love seeing a father and his daughter argue about who gets to die a heroic death, there is a somewhat  _major_ priority we should see to."

"He's not my father!" I snapped at the same time Varric  _also_ snapped, "She's not my daughter!" Then we both grumbled loudly and charged ahead. As we did so I angrily grabbed his hand and squeezed it, just so he knew that I loved him. The gesture was returned.

The trebuchet already had Red Templars pressing down upon it as we came for back-up. I had cover as I jumped onto the upper platform of the trebuchet and examined what was wrong. "Crap, crap, crap," I repeated to myself as I heard the heat of battle all around me. Okay, what had Cullen done? "Calibrate the trebuchets!" I mimicked poorly. My fingers started to graze over the mechanisms as I tried to visualize what he had done. A part of me had been distracted because I was wondering what hair product Cullen had used to sculpt his hair so neatly, but I was pretty sure I had it narrowed down to either--

"Argh! Focus!" I screamed aloud. After some desperate tinkering, there was a defining  _click._ I scrambled back just as the trebuchet automatically launched. It nearly took my arm off, but I managed to get by with just a broken finger. 

My head snapped to the large boulder as it flew through the air. It seemed to fly into the storm, but landed in its designated position. I breathed a sigh of relief, which soon turned into a shout of gladness as the avalanche it caused took out the enemy forces.

I hopped down from the trebuchet and clutched my injured appendage. It was most likely shattered and couldn't just be fixed with a healing potion, but as long as I could still grip my hilt then I was good.

Varric clapped me on the back as he and everybody else cheered. I knew he was saying something to me, but all I could think about was how we had done it. We had gained the upper-hand. It was...it was  _glorious._

The sensation was short-lived. My smile wiped off my face as I sensed something...horrible...coming our way. Like a giant vat of Blight, just flying--

"Get down!" I screamed, but it was too late. A flaming ball crashed into the trebuchet, sending shrapnel in every which direction. The blast sent me flying off my feet and landing hard on my back. Do you know how much it  _hurts_ when you land on your back with a greatsword strapped on?

When my eyes finally opened back up, I watched in awe as a swooping dragon flew overhead. It was dark and mottled, and the sense of taint coated my throat. 

I rolled back up and assessed the damage. Nobody was dead, but there were many who were severely wounded. "It can't be!" Blackwall exclaimed nervously. "Can it?"

"It's not an archdemon," I said more to myself than anybody else. We started to help everybody up to make a mad dash to the gates. I fixed my gaze on Solas. "Is it?"

"I am unsure," he replied, emotion unmasked in his voice, for once. 

"No, no, it can't. I  _know_ what the Blight feels like. And it... _that_ thing carried the Blight, but an Old God?" I paused before adding, "Then again, I don't really know what an Old God feels like."

"You can sense the Blight?" Blackwall questioned. "How?"

"Six years in the Deep Roads exposed to red lyrium," I responded shortly. "I don't feel its effects, but I can  _feel_ the Blight in it. Thus I can feel the Blight in everything." 

"Wait,  _what?"_ Varric demanded as we ran. "The lyrium? It's  _Blighted?"_

"Impossible!" Dorian protested. "Lyrium isn't  _alive!"_

 _"We really shouldn't be having this conversation right now!"_ I frantically hissed, then stopped short to kick down Harrit's door so he could save his supplies from the burning workshop. We would need all the materials we could get if we were to make it through this.

Cullen was waiting for us by the gates. "Move it! Move it!" he shouted, beckoning us and the soldiers in. As soon as we were through he pushed them shut and immediately began walking up the steps. I hacked up another wad of blood as he spoke. "We need everyone back to the chantry! It's the only building that might hold against...that beast!" He looked back at me grimly, and said nothing as I spat up the last of the phlegm. "At this point...just make them work for it."

I held a thumbs up for assurance and set into action. Together, all of us and the remaining contingent of soldiers that chose to stay at our side swept through Haven to get any more civilians out of harm's way. We plowed through monstrosities of every kind, but nobody was killed in action thanks to our joined efforts. At some point my hair had come unbound and was flying in my face, which was  _pretty_ annoying. Movies never represented ladies with long hair in battles well. It was always billowing back and out of their face, not in front and to the side and causing an accidental choking every minute via breathing. I wanted to chop it all off, but just didn't have time. 

Our last battle was outside the chantry doors. It was bloody and tiring, and we had our backs to the building almost the entire time. When it was all over, I tiredly pounded on the entrance to let us in. The ache in my chest had returned with a fiery revenge, but at least it distracted from the fact that the top half of my finger was probably shattered. Irreparable damage to one never bode well for a musician.  

The doors groaned open and we all rushed in. Surprisingly, Chancellor Roderick was there, beckoning us in. "Move! Keep going! The chantry is your shelter!"

It wasn't hard to notice the dark stain of blood that soaked the lower half of his robes. Before I could do anything when he collapsed from the injury, the spirit boy, Cole, was there to catch him.

Wait.

Cole? The other companion?  _Now?_

"He tried to stop a templar," Cole explained as he helped Roderick to a seat. "The blade went deep. He's going to die."

"What a charming boy," Roderick managed to croak out as sarcastically as he could.

I wanted to ask him a million questions about  _who_ he was, not just what, but I was interrupted by Cullen. The commander came jogging up to me, sweat lining his brow and most likely stinging the scrape by his temple. I didn't even want to know what I looked like; seeing him only prompted me to remember the slice on my cheek from the blade earlier. "Herald! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

"I've seen an Archdemon," Cole said hollowly from under the rim of his hat. We looked down to where he was crouching. "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

"No, Archdemons do  _not_ look like that," I corrected loudly, raising my voice enough that the terrified people around me wouldn't go into mass hysteria. 

"I don't care what it looks like," Cullen burst. "It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everybody in Haven!"

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole continued to speak. "He only wants the Herald. The one who sings of Her, the Otherworlder."

I could sense Varric and Solas growing rigid even as I had my back turned to them. "Even if I go out there, he'll still kill everyone in sight," I mused with a half-growl.

"Yes, he will," the spirit agreed. "He'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

I let out a surprised, light laugh the same time Cullen grumbled, "You don't like...?" He then gave his head a shake and set his amber eyes on my own violet ones. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. We were prepared, yes, but for this? The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

"We'd bury Haven in the process, Cullen!" I found myself nearly shouting back. His unchanging gaze led me to believe that he knew the result long before giving me the option. 

"We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice."

"Absolutely  _not--"_

"Chancellor Roderick can help," Cole cut in smoothly. "He wants to say it before he dies."

I whirled around so quickly I felt another pop in my chest. It made me wince and clutch a broken-fingered fist to my breast, but I kept my attention straight. "There is a path," the cleric explained. "You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. " He leaned forward as best he could and stood up. Even stooping, he was nearly as tall as I was. "The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could...tell you."

My hands gripped both his shoulders. "What about it, Cullen? Will it work?" I questioned as I kept my gaze locked on Roderick. 

"Possibly.  _If_ he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"

I found myself smirking grimly. "Thank you, chancellor," I said quietly, fervently. "Thank you. May Andraste welcome you, when your time comes to meet her."

The aging man's eyes grew moist. "And you as well, Herald. And you as well," he rasped. I helped him back down into his seat and faced Cullen again.

"To be or not to be," I said firmly. 

"I...what?"

"To be or not to be, Cullen. It used to be a question for me, but not anymore. I choose to be. To be the one who helps the citizens of Haven flee. To be the one who faces whatever forsaken creatures are out there. To be the one who dies for those I love, if the circumstance calls for it.  _To be."_ I clapped him strongly on his pauldron as my smirk grew. "So don't worry about my fate, Rutherford. I choose to be the one who accepts it."

Leave it to me to use Shakespeare at such a time.

I let my hand drop and addressed the Inner Circle. "Cassandra, Solas, Varric--you will accompany me to the trebuchet. We'll have to divert the Red Templars so the soldiers can get it loaded for us. I gotta have the Original G's with me on this last hurrah. The rest of you will help the soldiers and the citizens."

The look on my face made it clear my decision wasn't up for debate. I fished out an extra leather band and messily tied up my hair so it could stay out of my face. I also gave Bubs a broken Mabari crunch to replenish a bit of his stamina. He wasn't going to let me go alone, this time. And I was okay with it. 

"Alaran," Cullen called out before we separated from the Chantry. "If we are to have a chance--if  _you_ are to have a chance--let that thing hear you."

The five of us headed back out the doors and cut a path through the Red Templars that stood in our way. My vision was growing blurry, again, but that could have been partially due to the fact that snow and icy wind was coming from every which way. 

Since it was such a small group of us, we made it to the trebuchet quickly and without having to worry about too many lagging behind. I peered into the blackness, waiting for some sort of sign that the citizens were all safe. No luck yet.

"Looks like we've got company!" I heard Varric shout, and I watched with sinking dread as templars  _poured_ over the walls and onto the embankments. 

"Cover me!" I bellowed, dashing to the trebuchet and turning the wheel to prep it. The process got stopped several times to engage in combat, but we all worked as a team and together,  _somehow,_ we were able to get the trebuchet ready to launch. 

The walls that the Red Templars had been coming over were suddenly decimated with one giant red lyrium scythe. No, wait,  _that was a hand._

"What the fack?" I screeched as we all looked in horror at the towering behemoth in front of us. The taint of red lyrium washed off of it in waves, nearly knocking me off my feet. And  _I_ was supposed to be hardly effected by it. 

I looked to the others and saw that they were all suffering. Cassandra had partially collapsed, Solas was leaning on his staff trying not to retch, and Varric and Bubs were both supporting each other as they fought against being consumed by its madness.

With a gulp that nearly caught in my throat, I straightened and faced down the beast. I had fought...I had fought just about everything, but  _this thing?_ It had no external weaknesses, outweighed me by probably a good ton or so, and could slice me in half with its giant, weaponized crystal. 

There was no way I could take it down. Not with the way my legs were trembling and my chest was fluttering too rapidly. I couldn't even  _see_ it clearly because of my damn eyesight!

I'd have to go for the eyes. Take it down like an ogre in  _Dragon Age: Origins._ Except I couldn't even fucking JUMP THAT HIGH BECAUSE THIS WAS REAL LIFE.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" I outright shouted as I dodged one of the behemoth's swooping swings. 

"G-go for the eyes," Cassandra said from her distance. 

"The eyes are way up there!" I barked.

"Climb!"

"OKAY LET ME JUST FUCKING SCALE THIS FUCK--AGH, FUCK!"

I barely made it out of the way as the behemoth made a clubbing motion that would have split me in two--not in the fun way, either.

Before I could take an adequate plan of action, the monster swung again. I dropped my sword and dashed forward, ready to scale this thing like a rock wall. The one advantage I had was that I was faster than the behemoth, and it only roared in some sort of garbled irritation as I grappled onto the jutting facets of red lyrium. When I  _somehow_ managed to get to its head, I found that the entire thing was nearly covered in some warped templar helmet.

_This thing had been a person, once._

_What atrocities had been committed?_

I nearly lost my grip as I pulled out my spare dagger from its sheathe. In one motion that only bode ill for my well-being, I drove it into the former templar's eye socket. The gouge was so abrupt that the dagger broke as I stuck it in, and was nearly deafened by the bellow that ripped through the behemoth's entire hulking mass. It jerked and tried to claw me off with its usable hand, and managed to successfully grip my coattail and send me sailing through the air. I braced for impact, but arms wrapped around me from behind and broke my fall somewhat.

Both Solas and I grunted as the air left our bodies. "Thanks," I wheezed as I struggled to sit back up and roll off the poor elf who caught me. Staggering upright, I moved to the trebuchet as quickly as I could and made sure everything was ready for launch. "Almost got it!" I called out. "Just--"

The grating, metallic roar of a dragon interrupted my sentence. I snapped my head up to the sky. "Move!" I shouted. "Move, like, now!"

Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and Bubs began high-tailing it to escape what was most likely going to be a big ball of flaming destruction. I followed, but--

_Shit. Haven hadn't been cleared out, yet._

I pulled up short. Which, in retrospect, was actually quite good, because not three seconds after I had done so a blast of red lyrium-charged fire exploded into the ground where I would have been. It rocketed me off my feet and onto the frozen ground. My head jarred and blood pooled in my mouth. I also couldn't feel my finger, anymore. 

Still, I forced myself up and spat blood as a creature strode through the rising flames. He had talons for hands, and red lyrium clung to his chest plate as if it were some sort of twisted, artificial muscle. More of the substance consumed part of his face and skull, pulling ancient skin tighter than what would be considered comfortable.

The earth shook as the dragon landed behind me, cutting off the only exit I really had. I turned to face it, and tried my best to not be overwhelmed by the sheer _enormity._ "You wanna come at me?" I hollered, but my voice was lost in its unnatural roar that scraped across the rolling black clouds. 

"Enough!"

I faced the "Elder One" again, cockily crossing my arms and grinning sharply. I could feel a film of blood coating my teeth. "Long time no see, Coryphy- _ass._ Ha!" The laugh nearly tore my lungs in two, but I didn't care. "You have no  _idea_ how long I've been waiting to use that one you!"

His sneer nearly stretched across the entire left side of his face. "Otherworlder. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

"Wow, did you go through puberty while you were away? 'Cause there's no way in heckity heck that your voice was that deep in Vimmark."

"Silence! You are nothing more than a tool used by those greater than your entire existence. But taking your life will spark a war between the gods that--"

"What? You mean Hallah Lynne will come down and pick a fight with whatever thing you worship? Dude, I'm already  _dying_ because of her!" I took a few steps forward, still clutching my greatsword with the right hand. The left I held up and said, "Do you want this? Go ahead! I'd like to see you  _try_  to take it."My words were so fierce they were physically paining me. 

Corypheus looked down on me as if I were an insect that demanded its presence be affirmed. He raised an orb that was between clawed fingers. Uh oh. Solas wouldn't be very happy about that. Not that he was really happy about _anything,_ but... "Very well. The process of removing your  _Anchor_ begins now."

In one motion he thrust his free hand out towards me, igniting some sort of response that shot electrical charges up my arm and shoulder. I screamed loudly and fell to my knees. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of perishing, you stole its purpose."

"It seems--" I gasped, "that I have--trouble--with dying. Sorry--not sorry."

Corypheus launched himself forward and gripped me by my left wrist, then continued to dangle me in the air like a rag doll. My chest felt like it was going to tear apart, but the pain of that was numbed by the agony the flaring Mark was causing. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire  _in person,"_ the magister ranted. "I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more." He began shaking me. "I have gathered the  _will_ to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. And you--a crude device meant to entertain an immortal who sees the world for her own taking-- _you_ will fail."

Then he took it upon himself to chuck me like a fucking football. I hit the side of the trebuchet and nearly passed out from the  _crack_ that fissured through my ribs. Everything...everything hurt and I was dying. 

More blood leaked out of my mouth. I whimpered and tried to lay as still as I could. Corypheus moved to tower over me. "The Anchor is irrelevant. You have spoiled it with your predetermined stumbling. And the decay of your body prevents you from being an adequate sacrifice to Dumat."

"Aw, man, isn't that a downer," I rasped, and weakly grabbed the greatsword at my side--which had finally broken upon clattering to the base of the trebuchet. Just like me. I used it to prop myself up and managed to brandish it halfway. "Come at me, you...you villainous strumpet!" 

Not one of my best insults, no. 

Something caught my attention. I looked over Corypheus' janky shoulder and saw a single flare climbing into the stormy sky. It was faint and blurred, but it was there. It was the signal.

My smirk was probably the best smirk I had delivered in my life. "Anyways, thanks for the chat, jabroni. It was real."

Then I spartan-kicked the trebuchet lever and watched with grim triumph as it launched a boulder into the mountainside. Snow started to move, then started to move  _very quickly._ As instinct would have it, I limped off the trebuchet and tried to run, but the pain in my side was too severe for me to be able to go beyond a brisk walk. The roar of the avalanche started gaining on me, but for some reason I kept going. 

 _To be or not to fucking be the one who tries outrunning an avalanche,_ I thought with distant bitterness.  _Am I really going to die this time? Or am I just going to have yet **another** near death--_

The cynical thought was cut off short as I fell through a hole in the ground. My impact was so jarring that all I felt as an intense flare of pain scorching my body before-- _surprise surprise--_ I lost consciousness.

Wait, how many times had it been that I thought I was going to die?

Ugh, too many to fricking count. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed post, guys. I've been doing school over summer and just barely got finished with my finals. But here ya go! And as a side note, Al is definitely getting pissed off with how many times she supposedly dies. 
> 
> And sorry for this super-long chapter! I was going to split it up, but just couldn't find a great place to do so. And hey, I hope all of you are staying lovely and staying safe.


	36. Makin Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets a meet-n-greet

I raised an eyebrow at the lifeless form of my Earth-bound, teenage body resting on a hospital bed. "Am I supposed to be impressed? Intimidated?" I asked aloud.

"Yeesh, no need to be getting bitchy," Hallah muttered as she came to stand beside me. I wasn't sure if we were actually in the room where my former figure rested in a comatose state, but it wasn't where I wanted to be.

"I daresay that I have the  _right_ to be bitchy," I snapped. "What're you going to do, send me back? Erase my memory of all that happened? Going--"

"Alright, alright, I get it! You're pissed off!" Hallah interrupted shrilly, waving large, slender hands in the air to get me to back down. "But the plan worked, didn't it?"

"You didn't even tell me what the  _plan_ was!" 

"Oh. Right. I got the Universe to force its hand! Or, like, a portion of it! Not the _entire_ Universe, but--ah, forget it, too much to explain." She rubbed the back of her neck, grin turning into a grimace. A small semblance of pain shone in her eyes. "It hurt like a flaming turd to the face, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make." Knowing that I was going to ask questions about what she had said, Hallah clapped quickly and loudly while I continued to glare at her. "Now I wanna go through this whole dramatic spiel about you having the choice--"

"Do you really?"

"No...?" Hallah's lean shoulders slumped a little. "I guess not. But being dramatic is  _fun._ Gives the readers a bit more meat to chew on."

I hardly heard her comment as I looked back at my once-body. People said it would always be strange looking at themselves from a third-party perspective, but I felt nothing. Nor would I ever feel anything. "I made my choice a long time ago, Hallah," I spoke firmly. A small part of me wanted to reach out and touch my other body's hand, but I restrained. What would the point of that be? Closure? I had closed the door to my connection with Earth the first time I saw a summer sunrise on the Wounded Coast.

"I know, I know. But I had to try, right? Oh, but I should  _probably_ mention that you're going to be dead. Here. Earth. That you. Not you you."

"Got it." I had nobody to miss me when I was gone; that was the consequence of never letting anybody love me. 

"You know, you had the  _cutest_ freckles--"

My look towards Hallah was composed of daggers coated in venom. She made a mocking, fearful face and let everything around us dissipate. It was then that my anxiety spiked up a notch, because I really had  _no_ freaking idea what would come next. Hallah had come through so far, but a small price to pay for her may be a tremendous price to me. What had television, comic books, video games, mythology, and novels taught me about trusting immortals?

Don't.

But what else could I do, when I was suspended in limbo and Hallah was the only one who could get me out?

She leaned down to my small, five-foot-four-ish frame and put a wiry arm around me. "Alright, I'm gonna head out for a little bit so you can hash out a deal with Uni."

That could only mean one thing. _"What?"_ I hissed angrily, but only got a peck on the cheek from Hallah. It left a tingle on my skin, like...ugh, like Icy Hot. It was either a weird sensation or a weird analogy. 

"You got this, O Little Lamb."

I felt her presence disappear from the plane, leaving me alone. Alone with a glowing hand, a waning soul, and...the Universe.  _Or at least a portion of it._

 _Please don't be the person from_ Full Metal Alchemist, I silently pleaded. _That's not who I want to deal with. Or anybody else. Not anybody else._ _Please, please, just be...I don't know..._

**_What do you wish me to be?_ **

The voice was around me, inside me. It was faint and deafening and overpowering. Kind of like the Sorting Hat on meth. If I had a sense of the ground I was standing on, I would have crumpled to my knees and pleaded to be  _anywhere_ but here. Since I couldn't, though, I instead squeaked and shut my eyes. Not that it made much difference. The darkness was everywhere, whether or not I shielded my gaze from it all.

When I finally dared to crack them open again, I found myself faced with Sophia.

Sophia. My Venezuelan nanny who...who raised me, who taught me all I knew, who was forced to stay silent when I was being abused, who was fired when she tried to step in and tell my parents that I needed to be taken care of better. 

Who I let myself be loved by.

She smiled warmly at me and raised her arms in an open embrace. "My little girl," she called. "Come here."

I stayed put despite the protest of every fiber of my being. "Stop," I said weakly. "I don't...I don't want to think about that time. About her."

Sophia's arms lowered, but she didn't disappear. "That's okay, Alaran. I understand."

"So are you really the Universe? Or...or god? The Maker? Whatever?" I wanted to ramble, to...freak, I didn't know. 

Her familiar chuckle made my bones hum. "They are two separate things, darling. And I know that you have a million questions on the subject, but it's not the reason why we're here, is it?"

"...No. I suppose not." I crossed my arms tightly against my chest. "So, uh, I'm assuming you know the whole deal, 'cause you're the...Universe." My lips exaggeratedly formed the word, but it was more out of hesitation than anything. "What do I have to do to stay alive and in Thedas? With no sickness?"

"Those are very broad questions,  _niñita._ Ones that I could take advantage of, if I wished."

"But you're not, right?" I asked warily. 

"Depends on your offer. I withdraw my Hand, yet something must fill it. This is the law of equivalent exchange." Sophia said it with a smirk, and I poorly hid my sudden grin. I had tortured her with long discussions of the subject--and many others, come to think of it. Yet she sat through it all, absently adding a  _hm_ or an  _oh_ while I ranted. 

Man, Sophia was the one who helped me become somebody  _other_ than a white-collared brat. A brat who would would have turned into a white-collared woman with no regard for anybody but herself.

"Okay...I understand." I tapped my chin with a finger. "What do I have to exchange?"

"You will know."

"Um..." It only took a few moments to come up with some things. "My formerly good eyesight. Does that one count, even if it's already declining?"

"Yes." She gave no hint of that offer being adequate. Crap. I liked my good eyesight. 

I was too prideful to give up any of my intelligence or talents. That meant...other things. 

Important things.

"My love for dried apples?" I winced. Sophia's eyes twinkled.

"Ah, a personal love. It has shaped your relationship with countless others. And it was something you hadn't adored until the Traveler brought you to Thedas. It's an acceptable exchange."

"Wait, so can I have my good eyesight back?"

"No."

"Dammit--" I flinched at Sophia's unrelenting stare. It was where I had learned mine from. "Sorry, sorry." 

"You've gotten quite a mouth on you since arriving here, Alaran."

I found myself submissively giving in. "I know, I need to straighten up." Then I remembered it wasn't exactly Sophia I was talking to. "Hey, wait a minute,  _no._ You can't do that."

"And what do you have to say against it?"

"I...nothing." Hands hastily ran over my face to focus my thoughts. "Wait, before you go, S--whoever you are--I have another question. Well, not really a question, but...yeah, you get it."

Both of her dark brows raised slightly. "What do you wish to say?"

"Becoming part of Thedas--I don't think...could you maybe--"

"Now, you were taught to speak better than that. Remember the late nights practicing for Lincoln-Douglas Debates? Articulate articulate and extrapolate."

"Right." I briefly gave her a "look." She wasn't Sophia. I had to remember that. With a huff I went on. "I don't want to relinquish my immunity to magic and the arcane that I've already come into contact with. It's valuable, and it keeps me clear-headed and unafraid of blood magic or the Blight. I want it to stay the way it is now."

A tilt of the head. Just like mine.  _No. Mine was just like hers._ "You could do much with magic in your grasp, Alaran. The power would allow you to heal countless souls, rain fire on your enemies, and control ancient devices at your command. The potential is endless. And you wish to lock it away forever? Never experienced?"

The pressure I suddenly felt made me want to fold in on myself and disappear with a little  _pop._ But I held my ground. It was all I could ever allow myself to do. Because that was what Sophia taught me. When I did crumble--and I mean absolutely _lose my shit_ \--nobodywanted to be at the base of that mountain. It wasn't pretty. "Yes," I answered with the slightest of nods. "I feel it would be best for the Inquisition."

"And?"

"...Best for me."

"What do you wish to exchange for this?"

I took a breath, then another. I had already given up the dried apples--oh, man, living with that was going to be  _miserable--_ as well as my eyesight, so...what else? What could I possibly live without while still being...me?

The answer that came forth was so ridiculous I almost laughed. But hey, if it was supposed to appear in my mind, then it was meant to be, right? "I give up my hatred for nugs," I stated proudly. My disgust for them was coded into every cell in my body, but...I supposed the sacrifice was necessary. Maybe it would be a good thing, to have a hatred gone from my heart.

Sophia outright laughed. It was rich and full and  _hers,_ and for a few seconds I forgot all my fears. "Perfect, Alaran. Just perfect. It shall be done."

I fist-pumped and rushed into another topic. "Okay, okay, could you tell me a bit more about Hallah Lynne? Where's she from? How old is she? What's her end goal? How is she--"

"All questions she will answer herself," Sophia cut in, but not unkindly. "Thank you, Alaran. For being who you are. For accepting your purpose. You are the axis that will see to the turn of Thedas in its timeline."

"Oh. Isn't that comforting," I breathed quietly. Before I could say something funny--or punny--Sophia gave her double-wink and was gone. The same wink that I had seen after every performance, after every goodnight-kiss, and as she left in a taxi cab that picked her up on the curb outside of my apartment. 

I didn't want her to leave me.

Hallah returned as I drew a single breath. "Hoo, boy, that was nerve-wracking," the Traveler confessed as a hand clutched her heart. She evaluated me with emerald eyes. "Hold the phone...what did you give up? Something seems a bit off."

"Eyesight, love for dried apples, hatred for nugs."

"That's hella savage, Little Lamb."

"Can I just go back, now? Please?" Seeing "Sophia" left me emotionally drained, and I didn't want to be here any longer than I had to. 

Surprisingly, Hallah put a comforting arm around my shoulder and drew me close. She smelled of sweet lemons and was abuzz with Time. "I feel ya. Let's go back."

Back to my body.

My one and only.

-

The blizzard bore down hard on the Inquisition, and pitched the world into a frigid and ruthless darkness. To counter the new enemy, mages had been stationed throughout the train of people to illuminate the snowy path with firelight dancing on the tips of their staves or in the palms of their hands. 

Solas was one of them, and had found himself grouped with the rest of the Inner Circle as they all trudged onward. The rising snow battled against them, trying to drag the Inquisition into a deeper level of hopelessness. Yet something inside him yearned to hope, to  _believe_ that she...that Alaran...

She had survived too much to be gone, now.

He gritted his teeth and let the fire cupped in his hand burn more brightly. 

"Hey, Chuckles, watch where you're pointing that thing," Varric objected absently as he shielded his eyes from the orange light. The dwarf hadn't uttered a word after finding that Alaran hadn't been with them when they fled from the dragon. It took both Solas and Cassandra to drag him out of Haven as he tried to run back for her, despite the corrupting destruction and impending avalanche. Bubba was finally the one to nip at his heels to make him go the opposite direction. The dog was...not as morose as he should have been. The reaction was another reason why Solas hadn't lost his faith in Alaran.

"Apologies, Master Tethras," Solas said, drawing in the flame. Shifting shadows hid some of the sorrow that had ingrained on Varric's face, and offering light would only uncover more of it. 

The rest of the Inner Circle was in a similar state as the rogue. They were in mourning of their Herald, their friend. Sera was still sniffling more than the rest of them, and occasionally muttered something under her breath before her face twisted in pain. At some point Blackwall had extended his arm for her to grab onto. She had been latched on since the rest of the trek. The rest kept to themselves, wishing that the icy wind of the blizzard tore away their feelings. 

Solas found himself looking back over his shoulder, to the place where Haven once was. Had she made it out, yet? Perhaps if somebody went back to find her...

No. Alaran had done much on her own. This was no different.

Or was it?

Yet...who was the one that granted Alaran prolonged health? The closure of the Breach should have killed her. Solas knew, the Inquisition knew, she knew. 

_I was_ _given strength to get me through the night, which leads me to believe that something is going to happen that requires me to spend it._

Alaran's words, spoken in fluent, accented elven. Her face was guarded, eyes haunted with something. 

Solas looked back over his shoulder again.

In all their years apart, could Alaran have possibly found an explanation as to how she came to be in Thedas?

He sighed, and a hot billow of steam pushed past his lips. The question would have to wait, for now.

Another look behind him. They were already miles from Haven, now, and Alaran's eyesight had grown poor over the last few months. Would she even be able to see in this weather, in this blackness? Elves possessed the ability to see in dark, but in a blizzard that snuffed out every ounce of light? It was difficult for even Solas to know what was twenty feet in front of him  _with_ the flame in his hand; how would Alaran fare?

"Stop looking over your shoulder, Solas," Dorian muttered loudly enough to be heard. The Tevinter was behind him, bundled up more than the rest of them.  His staff was aglow with snapping tendrils of fire. "She's not..."

Solas smiled, mostly to himself. "Returning?" He raised his voice a level. "You are too quick to think Alaran lost. But perhaps you have forgotten her strength? Her endurance? Her  _absolute refusal_ to die?"

"You believe her to be out there?" Cassandra questioned, regarding Solas with glinting eyes. 

"You are the one who possesses this group's faith, Seeker," he replied briskly. "Not I."

"And yet?"

"I see the cause and effect of things. And it has been known that Alaran creates...quite the effect, despite how overwhelming the cause may be. My hope is based off of fact."

"Nothing else?" 

She was waiting for him to say it, he knew. But, Solas was not a cruel man. 

And besides, it was not entirely untrue. "I believe in Alaran." Not the Herald of Andraste. Not the magic of the foci.  _Alaran._

Because that was who they knew. That was who they followed. 

A different sort of feeling blanketed the Inner Circle. It wasn't relief, exactly, but it was something. 

It would push them forward, for now.

Still...there was something Solas could do to extend aid for Alaran, however faint it may be. He absently touched the jawbone pendant hanging against his chest. There was a well of mana he had been continuously setting aside. No--hoarding was more like it. Tucked away for some purpose he didn't know about. It wasn't much; deep enough to cast a nearly impenetrable barrier for thirty seconds, perhaps, or create a large ice mine.

Or...

Fen'Harel gripped the jawbone. There was a reason he had been called that name.

And he smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, who knew it would take so long to post such a short chapter? Sorry, guys--real life got in the way, and my internet back at home sucks ass. I'm going to try and get another chapter posted before I leave 'Murica for a while.
> 
> Hope you're all staying lovely!


	37. A Spark Igniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al comes to

I awoke screaming.

Screaming as my body was purged with cleansing fire, screaming as bones snapped into their proper places, screaming as I was victim to unimaginable pain. I couldn't think, I couldn't  _be_ anything except for the pain. Even the  _word_ "pain" couldn't describe what was scorching my cells away into nothingness. Who  _was_ I, even? My name? Did I have one? No, my name was erased in the nuclear explosion that wiped every single thought and memory from my brain. There was nothing else besides  **this.** This devastating, excruciating, never-ending agony that consumed my entire existence.

That was my existence.

-

A flicker.

A spark.

Something so slight I didn't notice it in my endless, undulating universe of suffering. 

It happened again, then again. The action was repeated until it finally drew a fraction of my attention to its source. Once that occurred, something...cracked. It was like lightning splitting a tree, or an ocean wave breaking against jagged rocks, or...

Less. More. Everything. Nothing.

A burst of light consumed my vision, my blood, my bones, my soul. It flooded the darkness and washed out the pain in one enormous, constant rush. For a single moment I had to grapple with the feeling of Emptiness--

Then it was gone, replaced by...by myself. Me.  _Holy shit,_ how could I have forgotten that  _I_ was  _me?_  

Alaran Lavellan. That was  _my_ name. This was  _my_ world. This was  _my_ body. 

I had a story, a life. I liked and disliked things. There was love and hate intermingled in my swarm of emotions. Pure, original emotions that belonged to me. The Fade was connected to my hand, to my mind. The Veil that separated the Fade had been created by Solas. Solas, who was my friend, then my enemy, then my friend. I saw red lyrium growing inside him. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, because that was all I could do. Kisses. A kiss to Hawke, to Varric, to Isabela, to Merrill, to Fenris, to Anders, to Sebastian, to Aveline, to Carver, to Cullen. Cullen, who was Commander of the Inquisition. Leliana, the Spymaster. Josephine, the Ambassador. Started all by Cassandra, who saw what needed to be done and did it. To Vivienne, to Sera, to Blackwall, to Dorian, to Iron Bull, to Solas, to Varric. The Inner Circle. Cole's hat was circular, just like mine had been picking spindleweed and elfroot and embrium on the shores of the Wounded Coast when I lived in Kirkwall. Kirkwall. The City of Chains. The pumping in my blood as Varric narrated the video game. 

Video game. Earth. Cancer. Sophia. New York. Dying. 

Hallah Lynne.

An agreement, whether I acknowledged it or not.

Waking up.

I drew in a deep breath, eyes swiveling wildly as I saw a new kind of darkness. This one was real, like the inside of a tunnel. The sounds I made as I gasped for air bounced off the slick, rocky walls. 

My vision cleared, but only to a certain point. Because I was  _blind!_ Ha! That was the deal!

Shit. I'm so stupid, sometimes. Shoulda gone with the apples right off the bat. 

Ribs? Definitely bruised. Cracked at worst. Leg? Dislocated. All that pain, and I  _still_ had unhealed damage? Great. 

I rolled up to my side, cursed, stopped, and tried again. It was more successful this time, and after a short jerk of my knee I popped it back into place. A hiss escaped past my lips and turned into a puff of air. Oh, right. It was a freaking ice box in here. 

Shivers made my skin prickle, and I wrapped my coat tightly around me to keep in some of the warmth. My sword lay in its broken state a few feet away. A part of me wanted to reach down and pick it up--but that would require me bending over. After all the pain I went through, the thought of experiencing a little more for the sake of sentimentality was too much. 

Wait--no. It wasn't. I blacked out a bit when I was reaching for the hilt, but it was all good when I stood straight. "It's all good," I muttered as I clutched my side and struggled to breathe. When the stabbing pain turned back into a throb, I started to move. They were shuffles at first, but I soon gained a sort of limping, stiff stride that allowed some mobility. At least my broken finger didn't hurt, anymore. 

Still, though. This sucked ass. Come to think of it, I was the freaking champion of Ass Sucking. And not the kinky kind, either.

My mind was mush during the trek through the tunnel. I was too out-of-it to remember exactly what happened--or if anything happened at all from the time I got up to when I stumbled out into the ongoing blizzard. Had there been demons at some point? I couldn't be sure. Perhaps raising the Anchor on my hand and doing... _something..._ was just my imagination, a hallucination. I only became better aware of my surroundings when that cold, Frostback wind bit at my bare flesh and swept through my bones.

For a few moments all I could do was stand there, overlooking the obstacle before me. It was all so dark. 

And I was alone in such darkness.

A small whimper trailed up my throat.

_Remember the Frozen Wastes? That night that you tried to forget?_

_That night you experienced the most terror you had ever felt?_

_That night that looked just like the one you're now about to enter?_

Maybe I could just stay here. Maybe somebody would be out looking for me by daybreak. All I had to do was hunker down and try to stay warm, right? Somebody would...should...

They probably all thought I was dead. Again. 

Which meant that there would be no rescue.

Shivers had already taken over my limbs, and with each quake I felt my ribs groan in protest. It was difficult, but I managed to get some form of hyperventilating going on. It ended in another jab of pain in my side. I sucked in air between my teeth--and nearly died from the doubling ache.

It was now or never. Die here looking like Jack Torrance at the end of  _The Shining,_ or get eaten by whatever fucking creature was lurking in the black.

Creaking. Clicking. Cracking.

I tried gulping down the hard lump in my throat, but that didn't really help. Nothing could really help.

Fear kept me planted to the frozen, snowy ground longer than I cared to admit. After all I had done, after all I had gone through, I just...couldn't bring myself to move another inch. 

Looked like I was going to freeze to death. 

Poopy.

A sound past the shrieking wind made me jump, made the muscles in my body contract and still. Was it that...that thing? Had the storm carried its presence here to the mountains? Or had it always been here, waiting for the cold to conquer the night so it could hunt?

I wanted to keep my bones. I would rather die from hypothermia than from encountering that...that thing--

Another sound. It was long and haunting and howling.

Howling.

Not creaking or clicking or cracking.

A wolf's howl.

Another echoed across the valley, drawing me from my petrified state. In a matter of moments, of a few racing heartbeats, I came to just  _know_ who was behind it all.

Solas.

He knew I wasn't dead. He...he believed in something that was highly impossible. 

He believed in me.

There was still an ounce of old, palpable magic within the elf. Solas could have used it for anything, but he spent it on me... _for_ me. 

The tear that rolled from my eye froze on my cheek.

One foot trudged in front of the other.

The Dread Wolf heard my steps, for the howling illuminated the otherwise petrifyingly void-like path ahead of me. As my teeth chattered uncontrollably and I lost feeling in my fingertips and toes, I cursed myself for making a deal with Sophia about keeping my immunity to magic. I should have  _asked_ for it. Because  _asking_ for it would have meant that I could have kept myself warm with internal heating. I could have transfigured into a freaking bear and lumbered my way to the rest of the fleeing Inquisition. I  _could have_ fade-stepped right into their camp.

But no. I had to be me and fuck myself over. As per usual.

At least Solas had my back.

-

They made camp in a dip of the valley whose old, jagged ravines provided shelter from the storm. The members of the Inquisition were in a state of exhaustion, despair, and disbelief. Solas found that it left people...quiet.

He immersed himself in tending to those in poorer states. The mana he used to beckon the pack of wolves in the area to do his bidding left him spent, but that did little to stop Solas. As long as he kept distracted, he wouldn't think about Alaran freezing in the cold, alone and broken. He wouldn't imagine what would happen to the Inquisition--to the  _world--_ if she never returned.

But howling continued on the wind. Perhaps it wasn't in lamentation. Not yet.

"Here," said a sudden voice. It pulled Solas from the state of disembodiment he immersed himself in. He stood to face Dorian, who had a vial of lyrium between two fingers. "You need it."

"My thanks," Solas spoke softly. It seemed that he, too, was in a state of quietness only one person could currently bring him out of. 

"Care to talk?" Dorian questioned in all seriousness. "You and Alaran were rather...close." He drawled out the last word as if it held some other meaning.

"Our relationship had progressed from its initial state, yes," Solas replied with a degree of curtness. "I find it hard to doubt her tenacity in overcoming obstacles, but I do fear for her." He downed the lyrium and felt the ancient power take effect. "Does that constitute as a discussion?"

Dorian looked at Solas irritably, but managed to hold back a huff as he pulled his coat tighter to his body. "I believe there's a difference between a "talk" and a "discussion" in this context, but very well. You should at least get some rest; who knows what these next few hours will bring."

"Indeed." 

They both knew that Solas would do no such thing. Not until he was sure.

Sure that Alaran lived.

An image of her flashed in his mind--one that began blurred, but soon turned sharp, crisp, and real. A throat, delicate and swan-like, with a jagged, pale pink scar dashing across the center. Her jawline was all angles and sharpness, and unashamedly portrayed a square facial structure in her later age. Alaran's nose, too, was straight and barely had any sort of bump at the bridge. It would have been considered harsh, had it not been for the slightly upturned tip at the end.  _Vallaslin_ scrawled down it, pale like the blue in an early morning sky. Mythal's markings spanned across the rest of her forehead and down her lips and chin, skimming over dark, berry-colored lips. The same lips that could utter the kindest, cruelest words. That were the gate to jokes and remarks and sardonic comments. Lips that bred the difference between a smile, a smirk, and a grin.

Lips that dabbled between truths and lies.

Then there were Alaran's eyes. They were the same color of lightning that erupted from a mage's staff--and held the same amount of power. Enemies of the Inquisition would tremble and falter before her unrelenting, resolute gaze. Allies would be lifted up by the same stare, combined with that and her rallying words. History would remember those violet eyes forever.

Solas would remember them forever. Because...past the veneer, the calculations, the trauma, there was a vast well of kindness, love, imagination, intelligence, and perseverance. Alaran was a character from an Elvhenan story come to life--one that not even they could conjure up in their society. If she existed back then, if she was placed during the time of Arlathan, she would be on the Pantheon. 

Alaran could--and would--rival them all, if she were in the position.

A chill that wasn't produced by the cold crawled down Solas' spine. 

He found himself losing grip of the world around him. His mind became filled with not one image of Alaran, but several. One of her in Arlathan, donned in veils and silks and silver jewelry, facing Elgar'nan and the Pantheon, rallying the slaves, working side-by-side with Solas to do what must be done. One of her singing to him when they were both in the Fade, guitar cradled in her arms, a faraway feeling in her figure. Another, with her looking at Solas with coldness, with distance, with disappointment. And another and another and another until he had to physically rub his brow in an attempt to wipe them away.

Solas turned his attention to those around him again. Dorian had wandered off to warm hands and feet, and Sera was passing out blankets--where she procured them from, he didn't know. Cassandra was quietly arguing with Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana. Though their voices were low, the language of their bodies and facial expressions were anything but calm. The rest were nowhere to be seen, Varric included. The dwarf had disappeared as soon as camp was set up. Where he had gone off to, Solas didn't know. 

He took a small, steady breath to continue his work. It allowed him to pause and listen to the howling of the wolves, as faded as it was.

Yet...there were none. 

Solas stiffened, ears straining for some sort of noise. His heart began to thunder in his chest. There could only be three reasons as to why they had stopped. Either Solas' magic had faded on their will, Alaran was lost, or...

She had returned.

Solas moved through the camp, up towards the entrance of the pass. He was only stopped by the crowd that was already beginning to gather. "Alive, awake, aglow," a soft voice whispered beside him. Solas slightly turned his head to the boy, the spirit of odd circumstances, standing next to him. "Thank the Maker, Praise Andraste, hope is not lost.  She is small and smirking against my chest and hope is not lost." He continued to speak as he absently picked at the hem of his sleeve.

Cullen and Cassandra came trudging through the pass. Snow had already gathered at the entrance, and built up to knee-high levels in the space of a couple of hours. In Cullen's arms was somebody wrapped up in his cape. White hair tumbled over, curling and dancing in the wind.

It stilled as they came through the pass and into the camp.

"She lives, she lives," Cassandra repeated to the bombardment of questions regarding Alaran's state. It caused a ripple to take effect. First they started as whispered thanks to the Maker, to Andraste. Then it built up to a buzz, as fingers grazed the cloak Alaran was wrapped in when Cullen made the crowd part. It was all Solas could do to not reach out and take her from the commander. He caught a glimpse of her face--eyelids closed, breath fogging Cullen's armor, skin a grayish shade. But he saw the dry, cracked, berry-colored lips of Alaran's smirking. It was faint--it may have been his imagination altogether--but it was there. 

Alaran was alive.

Alive.

What was a buzz, a teeter on the edge of a cliff, soon turned into a roar, a leap so splitting and spectacular it made the Veil tremble.

When Alaran awoke, when she gathered those who would follow her to the ends of Thedas, she would need a place to go. A place to lead, to rule. 

Solas would stay.

He had, after all, taken the leap with the rest of them. 

With her.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first chapter of S&RE in Montpellier, France! I still can't believe I'm here. I still also can't believe what I've gotten myself into. But I hope you guys are still staying lovely, and that you haven't forgotten that this fic exists. <3
> 
> Also, sorry about springing that whole thing of Al being afraid of black, blizzard nights. I never found a good way to integrate it into this story. But you'll definitely find out why, come soon enough.


	38. Fist Pump Into Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets sung to and hit on

I didn't really want to wake up. 

Waking up meant dealing with my pain, my bad eyesight, the cold, the arguments, the truth, the world.

But my lids popped open, and I sighed at it all.

Sighed at the sound of heated arguments coming from the advisers, specifically.

"...What would you have me tell them? This isn't what we  _asked_ them to do!" Cullen had let his anger, his exhaustion get the best of him. His voice was heated and would continue to rise.

"We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!" Unlike the commander's, Cassandra's voice was as biting as the wind that still left me chilled.

I found myself slowly sitting up. My ribs no longer emitted a sharp ache; they had simmered down to a dull throb. "And who put you in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing!"

My eyes went straight to the four people gathered together about a hundred yards away from me. Though I couldn't see quite clearly, I still heard Josephine's voice cut in. "Please, we must use reason! Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we're hobbled!"

"That can't come from nowhere!"

Anger in my own chest spiked. Cullen shouldn't be yelling like that to Josephine. None of them should be yelling. The Inquisition was fragile, and for them to show such base behavior  _publicly_ was insulting.

"She didn't say it could!"

"Enough! This is getting us nowhere!"

"Well, we're agreed on that much!"

A gentle hand placed itself on my slightly shaking shoulder, keeping me subdued. I looked up and into worn, kind face of Mother Giselle. 

"Shh," she chided, "you need rest."

"I know they've been at it non-stop," I mumbled in reply. A hand absently reached out, and Bubba's head was underneath it not a moment later. There was going to be a hardcore cuddle session between the two of us when I was able to rest again. "There's little chance of me recuperating while listening to their incessant, circular shouting." Because that's what they usually did, when I wasn't there and something needed to be settled. Cullen was too forceful, Leliana too crafty, Josephine too delegative, Cassandra too stubborn.

"They have that luxury, thanks to you," Mother Giselle reminded. "The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame." She looked sorrowfully at the advisers. "Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus."

"When I'm as old as you, will I speak as sagely?" I asked with a weary smile. Once Mother Giselle returned a similar expression, I let it recede again. "The only thing yelling gets us is a headache." At the mention of one, I became aware of the same thing pressing against the inside of my skull. "Another headache."

"They know. But our situation--your situation--is complicated. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand...and fall. And now we have seen her  _return."_ In order to avert my gaze, I fully sat up on the raised cot I was on and slowly swung my legs over. "The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained."

I knew it was going to come to that. I had known all along, even if I never wanted to admit it. There was a plan for me--for all of us. And an emerald-eyed Traveler knew as much. 

My eyes lifted to Giselle once again. "That is hard to accept, no?" she questioned. "What "we" have been called to endure? What "we," perhaps, must come to believe?"

I let my head bow, let my thoughts smudge and blur until I couldn't come up with some sharp, resolute one-liner. "Mother Giselle," I spoke quietly, "I...just don't see how what I believe matters." I didn't even know what to believe anymore, did I? Believe in a god who supposedly abandoned His children? Believe in an immortal who was just as imperfect as anybody else and had an agenda of her own? Believe in the Universe and wind up dead for it? Was believing in something worse than unbelief? "Lies or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat. We can't match that with hope alone." Mother Giselle caught a glimpse of my face unguarded, and her brows drew together in melancholy. 

Then I drew the veneer forth and used it to propel me to stand. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to attempt to do some cleanup." 

By now the advisers had separated into isolated, frustrated sections. The tension they had created still hung tangibly in the air. It had subdued the rest of the camp. I wanted to reprimand them for doing such a thing, but that would only start it all over again. I'd have to find a way around it. Perhaps if we put more heads together, if more ideas were brought forth, then we could get somewhere.

My headache grew.

Before I could rub my forehead and continue walking forward, though, there came a voice singing. I turned to look over my shoulder and found that it originated from Mother Giselle, who was serenely walking forward. The snow didn't even seem to touch her robes. The song emanating sounded strange in the silence, as if the two were battling for dominion. 

 _"Shadows fall,  
_ _And hope has fled  
_ _Steel your heart  
_ _The dawn will come_

 _The night is long_  
_And the path is dark_  
_Look to the sky_  
_For one day soon_  
_The dawn will come."_

Frissions ran down my arms, legs, back, neck. The song was old, as old as the Chantry. I had never heard it sung, before, only read in hymnbooks or scrawled on vellum and tucked away in a drawer. It was more than a song--it was an incarnation of Hope. Whether one was religious or not, the application was still the same. 

Leliana joined in on the second verse, and more citizens, soldiers, survivors followed. I felt my knees begin to tremble.

 _"The shepherd's lost_  
_And his home is far_  
_Keep to the stars_  
_The dawn will come"_

Cullen's melodic, oft-hidden voice came into play, and it was all I had not to brace myself against the post I was near to. The whole camp had undoubtedly joined, by now. We were so few, yet so many. 

 _"The night is long_  
_And the path is dark_  
_Look to the sky_  
_For one day soon_  
_The dawn will come."_

I was surrounded on all sides by the Inquisition, now. When one knelt, others followed, until I was one of the only ones standing in the entire camp. I spotted strangers, familiar faces,  _friends,_ among them all. Their voices--the song they were singing--brought forth indescribable emotions that took my breath away nearly as much as the cancer had. 

 _"Bare your blade  
_ _And raise it high  
_ _Stand your ground  
_ _The dawn will come"_

How could I possibly be given the right, the  _honor,_ of the position to lead? To save? I was a liar, I was ruthless, I was a hypocrite, I was a murder. And I would continue to be so, because that's  _who_ _I was._ Would they still want me if they knew who I really was?  _Why_ were they doing this?

 _"The night is long_  
_And the path is dark_  
_Look to the sky_  
_For one day soon_  
_The dawn will come"_

 But I knew the ways of people, of humanity. I knew their reason. I was one of them, after all. 

So I stayed put. I would never leave them. I was theirs, and they were mine. I had not made it this far for myself. The reason why I was standing here, marked and marred, was for them. 

Failure was not an option. Unbelief was out of the question.

As people cheered and the heavy blanket upon the camp lifted, Mother Giselle came and stood beside me. "An army needs more than an enemy," she said, "It needs a cause."

There were few truer words that I had heard in my life. 

When Mother Giselle departed, another took her place. "A word?" Solas simply asked before he strode off, expecting me to follow. I was half-tempted not to just to spite him, but it was fleeting. With a closed mouth, I made my way from the camp and to the outskirts, where the world was plunged into the darkness I had come from only hours ago. 

It was difficult to see Solas' figure as he walked in front of me, as silent as a shadow. It would have been harder to follow him in the dark if it weren't for Bubs, who padded alongside me. Just when I was going to call out for him, pale green veilfire was summoned in a long-forgotten brazier. Solas stopped and stood beside it, hands clasping behind his back. I walked to the other side so the veilfire stood between us and took up the same posture. For a short while we stared into the night. Dawn would be approaching, soon. Much preparation needed to be done. "What is it you wish to discuss?" I prompted as I gave him a sidelong look.

"I would like to congratulate you on your return, firstly," Solas responded, eyes flicking over to me for an instant. "You would have been sorely missed."

"I have you to thank," I said. "Without your aid I would have been lost and forgotten."

"Not forgotten, no."

"Hopefully. I would have hated people not remembering my dank jokes."

That got a snort out of Solas. "The travesty," he agreed. I let myself smirk. It felt good on my lips.

"Now that that's out of the way, what is it you really wanted to talk to me about?" My hands were let loose of their clasp so I could run fingers through the veilfire as I spoke. Solas regarded the motions with imperceptible eyes. The flames felt good on my skin; warm, but not  _warm._ It made the Anchor on my palm buzzed, happy that it had connected with something familiar.

"A number of things, actually." Solas shifted his feet so he was angled in my direction. "How is your health? You seem to be faring better than I had presumed."

My fingers reached further into the fire. "I'm...better. Yeah, better. And that's how it'll stay."

Solas' brows itched to draw together, but her only gave a slight tilt of his head. "May I ask what came to pass for that to occur?"

Ah. Right. I almost forgot that I had been  _dying_ before I was presumed  _dead._ Before Solas could add onto his question, however, I said, "You'll get your answers to _that_ topic when we're with everybody else. I'm sure they want the same information as you do." That way, if Solas reacted poorly to the information I gave them--the _truth_ I gave them--he wouldn't be able to do something...dramatic. Because maybe it was just me, but I had a feeling that Solas and Hallah Lynne  _may_ have had a past.  _He_ was immortal,  _she_ was immortal...they probably had, like, bi-millennial meetings. 

Tense ones.

Solas, fortunately, conceded to my plan. "Very well." Though his expression remained guarded, the veilfire revealed a hesitancy in his gray-blue eyes. 

"You wanna ask about your orb?" I asked, lifting my right hand and making a cupping gesture. I had made sure to make it look like I was feathering testicles.

It earned an eye roll from Solas, but he responded. "Yes."

I blew out a puff of air as I gathered my thoughts. "Corypheus has it, whole and intact. He used it to manipulate my Anchor." My left fist curled into a loose ball, still consumed by licking veilfire. "It hurt. And...you're not going to like what I have to say next."

One of Solas' ears twitched, but he was otherwise calm. "I believe I can stomach it."

My shoulders shrugged up and down. "Aight. Well, the Orb looked...not like it should. It was glowing red, like the color of Blighted lyrium. I mean, everything around me was Blighted so my senses were awry--also I was dying--so I couldn't be sure, but...yeah. All is not well in Orb-Town. It's ripe with corruption--" I snorted, unable to finish. "Sorry, sorry." It was an effort to straighten my face. "We'll figure it out. Together. I promise." 

I held my pinkie out over the veilfire. Solas looked down at it and, after a small moment, hooked it with his own. 

An unavoidable smile appeared on my lips. It was just a pinkie promise,  _just a pinkie promise,_ but it still made something light and girlish spring in my stomach. 

Whatever was going in Solas' mind was kept from me. We let our finger-bond drop. I withdrew my hand from the veilfire entirely and tucked it into my coat pocket. "So is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes." The pause Solas took was hardly noticeable save for the slight intake of breath. "Your people's faith in you is hard-won, Alaran. Yet that trust cannot grow in the wilderness. You will need every advantage. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed  _you._ There is a place that I know of where that change can flourish."

"Where?" My voice was quiet but firm, face hard yet inquisitive.

_"Tarasyl'an Te'las."_

I showed my shock by sharply raising an eyebrow and sucking in winter air through my nose. It took a little while for me to gather my thoughts, but Solas was polite enough to wait. "How long of a journey is it? I'm...absolutely honored for you to offer your former home, but we are weak, and have more injured than not."

"Two and a half weeks, if all goes well."

My stomach dropped a bit, but I steadied it by swallowing. "We will need to discuss it with the advisers, but...I believe we can do it. The Inquisition. We need to be a separate entity, and  _Tarasly'an Te'las_ could do that for us." I mustered all the sincerity I could in my gaze and voice. "Thank you, Solas. Thank you."

His shoulders straightened a fraction and he gave a simple nod of acknowledgement. We then stood there in silence for a few moments, letting the past silently creep in and hang over our heads. 

Solas' courtyard that I had spent so much time at in the Fade wasn't Skyhold. It was somewhere else, a place long-abandoned by the mercy of time and destroyed by change. Its existence was only protected by a world of dreams, ancient spirits, and an an elf that had a hard time letting go. 

But Skyhold...I could never find it on my own journey, no matter where I looked. I supposed I never knew  _where,_ though--Bod's lips had always been sealed on the subject and I didn't have it in me to ask Wisdom or the other spirits. I had seen it in other memories, but they were distant and cloudy. It was as if Skyhold was purposely shrouded by those who wanted it to remain unseen by prying eyes. Like mine, for instance.

I did know that it was big. 

_That's what she said._

"Before we go," I said slowly, cautiously, "I just...heck, where was I going with this? I was distracted by my brain." Another pause, this one awkward via me. "Uh, Solas, you...mean a lot to me. I'm glad you're still here. I look forward to with you staying--I mean, staying. I look forward to you staying. With me. Yeah." 

If dogs could laugh, Bubs would be in stitches from the intense levels of awkwardness in the air. I rubbed the nape of my neck, right on the shaved undercut. "How about I just go--"

"I feel the same," Solas interrupted with a curt nod. "I would...like to begin something. With you, in this Waking World. Because in it you are real...and wonderful."

What could make my face heat up like a furnace?  _That sentence!_ Who knew? 

I didn't like the feeling of a flush, so without thinking I reached down and scooped up a handful of snow. "Okay," I murmured with a goofy smile, "good talk. Let's begin something."

With that statement, I shoved the snow in my face. 

A moment after that I realized just how stupid I was. It caused a snort, then another, and then finally a cackle. Solas wasn't any help, either, because he was chuckling  _at_ me. 

"Alright, I'm going now," I declared lamely as I turned to flee. In a voice similar to an old man's, I added, "Gotta go tell everybody that I'm from a different world."

Solas' laughing cut off short.

"What?"

Grabbing onto Bubs' collar, I let my hound lead me back to camp. Solas caught up in three strides. When he was walking next to me, he let out a pointed, terse sigh. "I suppose I can't encourage you to reconsider."

"Nope. There will be too many questions that demand answers I can't catch in my web of lies. Don't worry; I won't reveal  _all_ my secrets--or yours. We still have a lot of devastating revelations in store for the Inquisition.  _That'll_ be fun. For now, though..." Solas and I both regarded the somber, warm glow emanating from the camp as we neared. Bubba's body began shaking with excitement when he saw Sera passing by, most likely searching for me so she could give a good cussin'. With a soft smile, I let go of his collar and watched him bounce through the snow. It was best to get everybody rounded up for a nice meeting, anyhow. "I'll say what needs to be discussed. Nothing more." I felt my face slip into a grim expression. 

_You'll always be a liar. Your secrets will be your downfall._

Maybe so. But until then...until then, I'll stand upright.

The veneer went up as we entered the camp. The celebration had died down, but the feeling produced just a short while ago remained. It made my facade feel more natural.

I didn't get far before I was stopped by a dwarf. Other members of the Inner Circle had gathered close behind, but they allowed my first and foremost to greet me.

"Ay," I smirked, pointing finger-guns at my melancholic pal, "bet you thought you wouldn't see me again."

"And here I thought I was in the clear," Varric smirked back. I closed the space between us with a few steps and found myself sinking into his embrace. He still smelled like old smoke and blood and the outdoors, but underneath was the scent of pine oil.

I let out a small shudder as tears of happiness pricked at my eyes. Varric was more than my friend, more than my father figure. He was an integral part of my life. No matter where I went, no matter what I got myself into, no matter the circumstances, I could always count on him. And he could count on me.

When the two of us finally let go, I was then overwhelmed by a bony rogue, a beardy bear, a stabby Seeker, a comfortably warm Qunari, a buckled Tevinter, and a preened Enchanter. It...honestly brought me great  _joy_ to be in their arms and their presences. My facade melded into a real display of emotion, and I basked in the physical touch I was receiving from my friends. Though they had been singing with the rest of the Inquisition not fifteen minutes ago, they still saw me as me. As Alaran.

Hopefully that'd still be the same once I told them some very damning truths.

"Hey, guys," I said over the celebration-slash-fussing-time-slash-overall-ruckus, "let's move this to a bigger tent, alright? Guys! Are you listening to me?"

"Are things about to get kinky?" Sera snickered as she put me in a partial headlock. None of them seemed to mind roughing me up when they saw that I was no longer dying and recovered from my hypothermia-inducing trek. "'Cause I think I might need ta tell ya somethin' about my preferences."

I easily tugged her off of me as I ignored the whining ache in my ribs and kneecap. Sitting down and resting was probably a good idea. But would I follow through with it? Nah. "That's for another night. We need the advisers rounded up, though; I'm conducting a meeting. And I'd like all of you to be there."

"And what will this meeting pertain to?" Vivienne inquired. "Surely it can wait until tomorrow. It's far too late for you to be up, anyhow, with your condition."

"No, it can't wait," I said matter-of-factly. My shoulders straightened and I brushed past those in my way to the main tent. "Because it's origin story time."

For a little effect, I added a semi-fist-pump. 

It didn't have the reaction I wanted it to, unfortunately. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Sooo I just finished my first month in France. Only three more months to go until I'm back in the States. But I'm happy I got this chapter out; doing so means that I can move to better chapters that I've been looking forward to writing. And sorry that my updates have been so slow. Between being in France studying and travelling and getting a whole bunch of foreign xp, I haven't had much time to focus on my fanfic. But thanks for staying with me, lovelies. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! In case you couldn't tell, Al has very low xp when it comes to romantic stuff.
> 
> I'm found tumblring at i-dropped-the-chief.tumblr.com/


	39. The Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al reveals most things

This moment was a nightmare come to life.

In front of me were my closest confidants, my friends, my allies, my people people. 

And I was about to tell them a truth that I had buried so deep it seemed to be older than I was.

Bubs pushed his snout into my sweaty palm in order to give a little comfort. I faintly smiled and ran a hand over his thick head. He was here, which had to mean that this wasn't truly a nightmare after all. 

"Alright, folks," I declared as I took up position on the other side of the table that had been set up for important stuff, "let's get down to business."

"Why do we all have to be here?" Dorian questioned as he tried unsuccessfully to lean against the stiff canvas of the tent. "As much as I'm all for being present when you give a rousing speech, I'd much rather be asleep right now."

"Yes, Dorian, you all have to be here," I said a bit sharply, then forcefully softened the hard line of my lips. "I want all of you to be here. That's what I mean." There was a pause as I briefly clenched my lips and swallowed the dry lump in my throat. "But there are a few things we need to go over, first."

I pointedly looked at Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra. A single finger drove into the worn wood of the table, and my mouth hardened again. "If you four ever make a scene like that again for the entire Inquisition to see and hear, I will make your lives  _very_ difficult. Am I clear?"

Because they were the advisers--the branches of the Inquisition itself--I got some backlash. "What would you have expected us to do?" Cullen asked calmly yet stubbornly. "We were lost, afraid, and desperate. Arguing was the least of our problems."

"You are vital members of the Inquisition," I went on. Steel began creeping into my voice. "Know your place, know your responsibilities, and know what you mean to those people who rely on your decisions to make their lives better. Whatever problems we face, we will face them in private, without the whole world seeing and letting doubt and disbelief set in."

There was an awkward, tense silence in the tent. Each of them did something different as they took in what I had said. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, Leliana fiddled with one of the clasps that fastened her purple hood, Josephine tugged on a pierced earlobe, and Cassandra had her teeth gritted together. "Am I clear?" I repeated.

It was Josephine who gave an answer. Josephine, the one who was trying to keep the most peace out of all of them. "Understood, Herald."

"Good." One hand trailed to my dirty, limp scarf thrown around my neck to absently cover the scar spanning across my throat. "Now that that small chastisement is out of the way, time to...talk about other things."

"And we're here for those "other things," aren't we?" Blackwall said, crossing his arms and widening his stance as he spoke. 

"I believe her exact words were 'origin story time,'" Dorian put in. 

"Such an exquisite memory you have, Master Pavus," I said dryly. "I didn't know anybody could remember what things had been spoken five minutes ago."

Solas snorted at my statement, at least. He and I then shared a brief flicker of a gaze. It was what I needed to keep pressing forward. 

I took a deep breath. It was the kind one sucked in before plunging into black, cold waters. "As some of you may know, my arrival in Kirkwall was...not normal." From the way more than four people shifted and shuffled in the room, it confirmed my assumption that they had already done their digging. "And though I can guess that you've all been suspicious of the validity of my forgotten memories prior to that arrival, everybody has had the decency to not pry. Thank you for that, by the way. But...I must confess that I've been hiding the truth. A great deal of the truth."

The tent had fallen silent, and I could feel the pressure of attention on me. I looked to Solas, to Varric, and then to Cullen. "Where should I even begin?" I questioned aloud. "Help me. Ask me questions. For once, let me explain instead of evade."

The commander's amber eyes dashed away from mine, returned, dropped, then came back once more. "Alright," he nodded, readying himself for a physical fight rather than a conversation. "Where were you prior to Kirkwall?"

Of course the first question had to be a doozy. 

"A city called New York," I replied, voice steady despite the trembling in my knees. I looked to Varric and saw something intermingled with doubt on his face. When I had told him earlier, I didn't exactly care what he thought about it because I was going to die. But now, now I needed him to be behind me. Not wavering in the wind. "On a world called Earth."

My short statement left a lot to hang. When nobody dared to ask a follow-up question for fear of their sanity being scrutinized, I bowed my head and used my newly-revived lungs to suck in some more air. "I don't mean to shatter any beliefs, but...I came from a different planet. Thedas is..."  _in a video game._ "Thedas is imaginary. Not real. Or, at least that's what I thought. Until I came here. To...Thedas."

Dead silence. 

Well, at least I hadn't been called crazy--

"That's crazy," Sera said flatly. "That's crazy talk. You sure you're alright?"

"I'm not crazy," I said with a small amount of forced calm. "I'm telling the truth. For once in my life, I'm telling the truth." My eyes went back to Solas, and I silently pleaded for him to back me up on this. 

He shifted his eyes to the others, weighing his options, his word choice. He had to have my back. He had to.

A less-than-silent breath of relief rushed past my lips when Solas began speaking. "Alaran is not giving you falsehoods," he began, and the attention of the tent honed in on him. "I have seen what her homeworld is like, in the Fade. Not even the wildest imagination or intricately-woven lie could recreate what Alaran had."

"If I could show all of you, I would," I continued. "Why do you think Bod wanted me for all those years? He could have wanted anybody, could have taken anybody, but he made the deal with  _me_ because I could feed him things nobody else could."

"Bod?" Leliana inquired with her sharp calm. "Who is that?"

"He's...a demon," I replied with a small wince. "A hunger demon. Or, was. I killed him in the Fade."

"Al..." Varric began speaking, but realized he didn't know where he would go with the statement and fell back to silence.

"You've wondered about it, Varric, don't try to hide that you haven't," I reprimanded. "And you, Dorian." I pointed to the mage. "And you, Cullen." My finger moved to the commander. "Since I'm on a roll here, I might as well let another thing come to light. I went on the Deep Roads expedition with Hawke and Varric and his brother's company, yeah. But I didn't come back. Not for  _six years._ Why? Because I  _was_ in the Fade, feeding an ancient hunger demon with tales and memories from  _my_ world."

It was Vivienne that spotted the missing details in my reveal. "Even if a mage was sleep-induced, they would only last a few days in the Fade before awakening. You, my dear, are not a mage. Nor can you sleep for six years straight."

"One," I steely countered, "I was given an enchantment by a particular Sandal Feddic that  _did_ in fact put me to sleep for six years. And if any of you know Sandal Feddic, you know that that dwarf has something about him where he just  _knows_ things that he shouldn't. And no, I'm not a mage, but some enchantments do work on me. Like that one, for example. Second,  _I'm not a mage,_ nor am I affected by most things magic-produced. Why? Because I'm from a different world and we don't have magic where I come from. Honestly, I'm actually  _surprised_ that none of you have asked more questions about  _that._ _"_

"Six years. In the Fade." Cassandra repeated slowly. It nearly reached the level of a growl. Her eyes slid over to where Varric was standing and she clenched her gloved hands. "You little  _liar."_

Varric threw his hands up in the air. "You wouldn't have believed me anyways, Seeker! And after all the shit Al went through after because of it, I wasn't about to give up any information to my  _captor."_ He then gestured to Cullen. "Besides, you could have asked Curly about it at any given time."

"Wait, hold up, what did Cassandra want to know about me?" I asked. Unfortunately, it was at the same time Pentaghast veered on Cullen.

"You? Did you know of Alaran's whereabouts during that period?"

The commander tried backing against the wall. It was a shame that we were in a tent, though, because it technically didn't have walls. "I didn't know the reason for her disappearance until after she returned. Before then we all thought she--" he purposefully made eye contact with me,  _"you_ were dead."

"And you just forgot to mention anything to us about this particular subject?" Leliana interrogated. There was an audible edge to her voice. 

Cullen looked between the two former hands of the Divine. He appeared to be veering on desperation in order to avoid the scrutiny. "I...it wasn't until...it had never--" 

"It's okay, Cullen," I cut in firmly but not harshly. "You were just--"

During the three seconds that I was talking, Cullen's expression went from nervous, to guilty, to resolute, to strong. "No, Alaran, it's not."

The validity behind his statement caused me to pause. Cullen went to grip the hilt of his sword from habit, but at the last moment let his hand drop back down. "You did not endure what she did because of what occurred. You did not see what I did when I found her at the Gallows." Bringing up the memory I always tried to ignore automatically caused me to flinch. "Meredith had Alaran's records expunged from the Templar Order as soon as she escaped. She thought it best to forget the fact that somebody who was immune to magic and spent six years in the Fade had slipped past. And with tensions between templars and mages at it's height, Meredith couldn't afford to ignite anything by taking a non-magical elf from the grasp of the Champion of Kirkwall." Cullen's face grew darker. "It is something both Alaran and I wish to forget, and it was something too private to speak about unless I was sure she would agree to it. And since she never brought it up, I decided against saying anything at all."

Leliana's head tilted back towards me. "You were in the Gallows?" This time the question was quieter, but not necessarily softer.

"I was," I replied, refusing to link any memories to that word. "And Cullen helped me escape. Cullen and..."

"Knight-Corporal Lynne," he finished, unknowing of my reluctance to even acknowledge her in the matter.

"You went against your order? For Alaran?" Cassandra went on. She didn't sound as angry, any more. I mean, there was a bit of anger, but there's always a bit of anger in her voice. 

"Yes," Cullen simply replied. "The point isn't about what I did, though. It's...Maker, I can't believe I'm even  _saying_ this, but I believe her." Again, he addressed me directly. "I believe you, Alaran." Amber eyes shone with honesty. "Andraste preserve me, but I believe you."

My heart swelled. Cullen, one of my dearest friends from the start, believed me. To hear him say why he never mentioned my whereabouts or circumstances to Leliana or Cassandra nearly made me cry. I had never known, and I had never thought to ask. It had always been something dark and looming, but since it was in the corner neither of us wanted to disturb it.

That was two on my side. 

"Another crazy to add to the bin," Dorian scoffed, but he was fiddling with his mustache in the way that meant he was hooked. "Alaran, quick question: you seem to be quite alright now that you've returned from that snowy death. Did your illness just... _poof?_ Disappear? I was going to let somebody else bring up the rather awkward subject, but I have a feeling that it has something to do with this strange tale you're weaving. Or am I the only one that has noticed? If so, then yes, it is true that I am more observant than most."

"Yeah," Sera drawled reluctantly, "you were kinda dyin' before. Or were ya just fakin' it? Wait, kinda hard to fake coughin' up blood 'n' guts."

"I was sick, thank you for not doubting that," I said wryly to her. Sera shrugged and rudely began to bite at her nails. She always exhibited an uncaring demeanor when she, in fact, cared very much. "And you're right, Dorian. It kinda does have to do with this strange tale I'm  _reciting,_ not weaving." Fingers ran through my unkempt braid, and when I brought them back out more strands of hair fell loose. I must have looked like a bedraggled rube. "I was dropped off here because I was dying in my own world. Dying from the same sickness that eventually followed me here." My hand splayed as it settled on the table so I could prop myself up. A low, throaty chuckle made the scar on my neck move. "You think I sound crazy right now? Wait until you hear this.

"My other body was failing me. Greatly. I honestly thought I was going to die. Then..." I gulped down a small truth and spit out a lie instead. "Then I randomly wound up here, in another body. Another race entirely, actually. Elves don't exist on my world. Or dwarves. Or Qunari. Or...anything besides humans. That means I was human, once. My name isn't even...no. I like my name now. Alaran. But Lavellan isn't mine, not really. I mean, it is, but at the same time it isn't. I never came from a Dalish clan, I just  _came_ with these markings." I lifted the hand I was propping myself up with and examined it. The Mark slept peacefully on my pale palm, and tiny scars dotted and dashed a map across the surface of my skin. "I like this body. I like being an elf. It's helped me do more, be more than I ever could have imagined." 

I was getting off track. My gaze moved from the hand and went back to the audience I corralled. "But, as I was not technically part of this world's...weaving...the sickness meant to take my life caught up with me. Caught up with me bad." My fist thumped my chest a couple of times. It was only natural that I threw out a peace sign after doing so. "Cancer. That's what it's called. Non-small cell lung cancer. Subsection, adenocarcinomas. Not a made up word, but it was funny listening to my mom try to say it. Oh, yeah, I have parents by the way. Why has nobody ever asked me about that? I mean I don't really care, but I low-key do. Wait, I'm not going to get into my parental issues right now. Not the point. 

"The point is that it was the Universe's plan for me to die. But I didn't. Because...because after I Spartan-kicked that trebuchet and face-planted it into that underground tunnel, I had a nice little chat with my nanny--but not really my nanny--and she agreed that it would be best that I stay here. Forever. Another string, zipped right in there. So congrats you guys, you're stuck with me. Except, you know, I had to give up a few things. Not important things, but...things.

"Oh, and this will probably make a whole lot more sense if I mention that Hallah Lynne is involved."

Solas choked.

I shrugged my shoulders and pushed my lips to the side. "Yeah. So. She was the master orchestrator of this whole shin-dig." I looked around the tent and raised an eyebrow. "Wait, none of you know that she's a time-traveling, shit-eating jackwagon with awesome hair? You just thought she was one of your spies? A templar? Somebody random, I'm sure, because she's  _fucking everywhere."_  I had to forcefully unclench my grinding teeth."Ugh, just the thought of her makes me want to punch something. But, I mean, I can't really hate her because she sent me here to this awesome place. And she did save Sebastian and me from the Kirkwall Chantry explosion. And after the sealing of the Breach. And set up the meeting with the Universe-Nanny.

"From the looks on your faces, that didn't clear a lot up, did it?"

"Hallah...Lynne?" Blackwall repeated slowly. "Tall, dark skin, black hair running down her head in a strip?"

"Green eyes that just scream  _I know more than you and I definitely think I'm cooler?"_ I finished irritably. "Yeah, that's the one."

"She runs a tavern in Ostwick.  _The Hog's Head Inn."_

I groaned more loudly than I should have. "She couldn't even come up with something  _original._ What an asshat."

Solas couldn't help but intercede. He made his way from the back left of the tent to directly across the table from me. "That was who brought you here?" he questioned lowly. "Her?"

I gave a single nod. Solas let out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. "Of course," he muttered. "Of course. I should have guessed it from the start."

"Yeah, you should've," I snapped, but it was less of a snap and more of a poorly-hidden smirk-voice. "Solas, she's such a  _pain in the ass."_

An idea popped into my head a moment after I realized that this was going to be an even longer night than I had planned. "Alright, folks, raise your hand if you've ever been personally victimized by Hallah Lynne."

-

Unsurprisingly, Hallah Lynne didn't magically appear. She probably knew I was trash-talking her and decided to leave me hanging.

It's not as if I didn't deserve it. I've never trash-talked somebody as much in one night as I did that Traveler.

By the end of the meeting, I had Bubs, Cullen, Solas, Blackwall, Cassandra, and Dorian on my side. Everybody else was on uneven grounds. Either they didn't believe me enough or...figured that it was another bout of Alaran lying to their faces.

Including Varric. That was a knife wound I was trying to push aside.

But none of them could deny that I wasn't sick, anymore. We agreed on going with the whole "Andraste saved her divine Herald!" story for publicity. Personally, I would have taken that over what really happened.

Things did end on a lighter note when I brought up the fate of the Inquisition. We were going to Skyhold, all of us. And then?

Then...we'd go from there. 

I stretched out on the small cot in my tent. Maybe tomorrow I'd give it out to somebody who  _really_ needed it. Right now, though, I was too exhausted to get back up. 

Bubs made a noise and sat on his haunches so he could rest his fat head on my tummy. I let out a soft laugh and scratched behind his ear. "I missed you, man. I missed you." 

He grunted in agreement. Then, after a few moments, the Mabari put his front paws on the cot so he could literally lay on top of me.

I wheezed as two hundred pounds of fur and muscle crushed me. The cot squeaked under the pressure, but miraculously held. "W-why?" I gasped, yet wrapped my arms around Bubs' huge body and held firm to him. My face nuzzled against his, breathing in the musk of dog and outdoors and campfire and home.

Even though I was tired enough to die  _again,_ I was still mentally going through all the preparations and measures I needed to make for tomorrow.  _Go over the supply list with Josephine, assist with tending to the injured, write up a report of what happened when confronting Corypheus, talk to Varric about--_

"His hurt was always hiding, a shadow on the shelf. Yet you tore, twisted it out of him and now he does not know what to do."

My eyes flew open and I craned my head to the left to see the tall, lanky figure standing in my tent. "Cole," I whispered hoarsely. 

"Yes," he said with an indecisive abruptness. "I'm...Cole. And you are Alaran. A name chosen, chalked with choices only your name could make."

I would have sat up to speak to the strange boy who appeared in my tent, but Bubs was asleep and wouldn't budge. And, since he  _was_ asleep because he sensed no danger, I figured I was safe enough.

"That's me," I said with an almost-smile. "Um, what's your deal, Cole? Are you a spirit?"

"Yes. I came to help."

"So...a Spirit of Compassion?" I drawled, interest piquing despite my fatigue. "I knew a couple of Compassions in the Fade. You don't happen to be one of them?"

"I...don't know."

My shoulders would have shifted in nonchalance, but Bubs was making it hard for me to move anything. Instead I tilted my head to the side before speaking again. "Eh, that's okay. Thank you for coming, though. You really helped us." A yawn interrupted my train of thought, and I only spoke again after I smacked my lips together a few times. "I want to talk with you more. I'm sure Solas does too, if he hasn't already. But right now I'm pretty sleepy, so..."

Cole hovered closer. I felt a strange yet peaceful hum as the Veil brushed against his being. Bubba finally became aware of the spirit's presence and lifted his head up from where it rested against my neck. He sniffed loudly, and Cole slowly reached out to touch him with a finger. 

"Last one in the box as it was lifted, what was happening? Where was I going? Jostled and jangled and the air smells different here. Rough hands pick me up and I see her." The spirit's finger moved from Bubs' white snout to his forehead, right between two dark brown eyes. "She's sad and she holds me gently. She smells right. She is right. She's mine. My name is Bubba. Bubs for short, Bubberston for long. Superbubberfragilisticexpialidocious for very long."

Bubba sniffed again and turned his head back to nestle in the crook of my neck. I lovingly smooched the side of it. "You had my heart the moment you burped in my face,  _da'vhenan,"_ I whispered. "Goodnight. And goodnight to you, Cole."

But the boy was already gone.

-

Even though I had never drank a single drop of alcohol in my life, when I awoke the next morning I knew what a hangover felt like. My head was pounding, my vision was blurry, my joints ached, the inside of my mouth tasted horrible, and there was a knot in my stomach. Bubs, thankfully, had rolled off of me sometime in the middle of the night. He lay faithfully at the foot of my cot, snoring soundly and loudly. 

I shivered and slowly sat upright, feeling nausea cling to the back of my throat before ebbing away. Squinting through the lingering exhaustion, I realized that it was already daybreak. A couple hours after, even.

"Shit," I hissed through my morning breath. I stood as I rubbed my stomach and moved to look through the small trunk of clothes that I stored away during the preparation for an attack. I would have been fine with staying in the clothes I was wearing now, but they were stained and stiff from blood and grime. 

As I was bending over to search for clothes that would be suitable to wear, there was a light slapping on my tent before Josephine Montilyet poked her head in. "Herald?" she called with light hesitancy.

"Yeah, Josie?" I grunted as I moved to crouch down. Both knees popped with a small amount of pain.

"Are you...doing alright?" She was still half-in, half-out of the tent.

"Maybe?" I dryly chuckled. "How bad to I look?"

That gave Josephine the green light to step inside. She made a small noise as she almost tripped over the hulking Mabari, but side-stepped and made her way to me. "Do you want my honest opinion?"

"I don't want your dishonest opinion, if that's what you mean."

"Your hair is in knots and has taken on a gray color one would see in a basin after washing dirty dishes. Your face is still bruised and cut, and I can smell your breath from five feet away. And Maker, I don't want to start discussing the state of your clothes."

I turtle-frowned at the ambassador. "Oh, I'm sorry I went through hell and back and didn't come out looking like a  _dime."_

Josephine's manicured brows furrowed at my terminology. I turned my head back down so when I sighed I didn't send visible waves of green breath her way. "But you're right," I went on. "I look like garbage because I feel like garbage."

She knelt down beside me and started sorting through my trunk. "You will be fine," Josephine promised. "We will reach this...Skyhold...soon enough. Hopefully there we can all have a nice bath."

"Or," I suggested, "we could find some kind of indentation or naturally-formed basin in the rocks as we travel and have the mages heat it up."

Josephine hummed. "I like the sound of that idea." She pulled out clean clothing for me to wear, as well as a thick, fur-lined coat that hadn't been in there previously. 

"Where did that come from?" I asked with a sharply raised brow.

"It was a gift from Madame de Fer," Josephine answered as she stood back up and laid everything out on the cot. She, too, was wearing the same style of coat, though hers was a rich shade of brown compared to my dark blue. "Though I know you adore that jacket of Varric's..." she pointedly looked over to where the ragged and cardboard-stiff vestment lay underneath my cot, "it does not provide the warmth you will need for this journey. As I'm sure you became well aware of during your arduous trek."

"So what you're trying to say is that it doesn't look Herald-esque, huh?"

"That, too." 

I made a face and started undressing as quickly as I could. The cold winter air bit at my bare skin as I slipped out of my layers of clothes. I felt Josephine's eyes scan over the dark bruises smeared across my body, the scars, the little muscle left over before I became sick. It was going to be painful gaining the strength required to wield a greatsword again. 

Oh, wait.

"I need another sword," I spoke through chattering teeth as I covered my hard nips with a fresh binding. "Mine broke after the scuffle with Corypheus."

"I will inform Master Harritt and see what he has in store. Though, if I may add, I doubt you will need a weapon at this time."

"Maybe. Or maybe not. I like carrying a sword around. Makes me feel important." A thick, gray-knit shirt that bunched up around my neck was pulled on, then tucked into some woolen trousers. Though I still didn't feel clean, I was at least wearing clothes that didn't feel like sheetrock. After tying on a red velveteen sash around my waist Josephine had laid out for me, I shrugged on the new coat. 

Dang. She was right. It was really warm.

"You know, I could have done all of this by myself," I commented as I sat back down on the cot and started to redo my hair. "What really brings you here, Ambassador Montilyet?"

The use of her title in such a private, personal space combined with my tone of voice made Josephine's nostrils flare a tad. My eyebrow twitched, but I continued with pulling my hair back. "Just because we may not agree on the sordid tales told last night, I do care about your well-being and any input you may have."

I wasn't sure whether to be angry or grateful, so I wound up being a mixture of both. Angrateful. Something like that. "Well," I quipped, "isn't that nice. How are you doing? What we just went through wasn't a piece of cake."

"I'm...doing as well as anyone would be, after an ordeal like that."

"Sooo terrible?" I prompted. Josephine tried to smile and brush it off, but couldn't quite manage.

I patted the empty space on the cot. "Come on, pop a squat, girly. Let's talk." I tied the end of my braid with a leather thong. Once Josephine was seated, I put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "You're not okay, Josie. That's alright. If somebody  _is_ okay after that shit, then something is deeply wrong with them. 

"Maybe you've thought this and maybe you haven't, but I'll put it out there anyways: just because you aren't sporting any physical, visible wounds, it doesn't mean you're uninjured. In this world--in any world, honestly--the best way to treat that is to talk. Thing is, there's always a stigma about opening up. But...as somebody who has struggled with doing just that, I know it's not easy. Maybe it won't hurt as much for you as it did for me, so you have that going for you." I gave Josephine a final squeeze and let go of her. She quickly flicked away a small tear gathering at the corner of her right eye. "I'm here. If you ever need me, I'm here."

She regarded me with her beautiful, crystal-blue eyes rimmed with rose quartz. "Alaran," she said lowly, cautiously. My name rolled off her Antivan tongue. "Are you...are you truly...?"

I looked away and bowed my head. "Believe me, I wish...I wish I wasn't composed of falsehoods. But I am. And now that the truth is out...I want people to be on my side, just as they were before. Because I'm still me. I'm still me."

Standing, I moved to my pack and fished around for my hygienic kit. "And this girl is going to brush her teeth, now." I nudged Bubba with a foot. "Wake up, smelly butt. We gotta go."

He huffed and clambered to his feet. Before I exited the tent, though, Josephine stood and put a hand on my shoulder. "I..." she whispered, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but..." Her grip firmly tightened. "I am with you."

A bit of the veneer masking my emotions broke away. I placed my hand over hers. "Thank you, Josephine. Thank you."

Then we went outside.

-

Safe to say, things were a bit awkward with those who weren't  _with me._ Varric was nowhere in sight, Leliana wouldn't take her eyes off me even when it seemed that we were on opposite sides of the caravan, Sera slunk around me like an alley cat, and Iron Bull...well, he just stared me down and grunted whenever I passed.

And this was just on day one.

Fortunately, Solas was with me. I took comfort in his presence, and it staved off most of the slime of negativity from coating my thoughts. He was about as grungy as I was, but he definitely looked better off because he had no hair to take care of.

We were riding horseback beside each other. Both of us protested when we were offered mounts, but I still had a phantom-hangover going on and Solas knew where we were going more than I did. There were scouts spanning the area ahead of us, but aside from that we were basically at the head. 

Which also meant that there was nothing stopping Solas from talking to me about things I didn't want to discuss. "Alaran," he began, voice treading carefully enough to make my ears twitch. "During the discussion held last night, it was mentioned several times that you were detained in Kirkwall's Gallows after returning from the Fade."

I briefly bit my lip. "Um. Yeah. Yeah, things didn't go as smoothly as I thought they would when I returned to Kirkwall."

That was supposed to be the end of the conversation, but Solas' lingering silence caused me to slump my shoulders and go on. "Carver...Carver wound up becoming a templar, and he thought it best that he report my...circumstances...to Meredith. But it wound up being okay."

I couldn't believe those words just came out of my mouth. "'Okay,'" Solas repeated. "I find that phrase highly implausible."

"Indeed," I answered with a frown. "Indeed." I looked over to him and tried to turn my frown upside-down, but it didn't really work. "Cullen was kind enough to omit the reason why he helped me escape from there. Hallah Lynne was with him so she took the fall for all of it, but he...he saw it. He saw everything." I pinched the bridge of my nose in order to siphon off the image of Cullen coming in with a Tranquil brander clutched in his grasp. "Meredith was not a kind woman. Not to the mages, and not to me." 

Solas' jaw subtly ticked. "What did she do to you."

"She didn't do anything herself. What she  _sanctioned,_ though..." 

Was I ready to share a deeply personal and traumatic event with Solas? Already? We were going to "begin" something, but what the eff did that even mean? Should I wait longer to be vulnerable? Or should I just get it out there in the open? He'd certainly back off if I wanted him to, but... _did_ I want him to?

I had no fucking idea what I was doing. 

So, to compromise, I expressed the vulnerability with a mask of sarcasm encapsulating it. "Hey, at least Hallah Lynne was there to heal up all of mah wounds. Oh, and there was this one lady templar with  _real_ bad breath, but I gave her a zinger about it and hoo boy she didn't like that. So, I mean, I was  _tortured_ physically, but I tortured them with how awesome I was in return." My face scrunched up comically so it could hide the pain crawling on it. "But I don't like thinking about those three days. I mean, it was  _only_ three days, but...ah, where was I going with this?"

"You do not need to explain anything to me, Alaran," Solas spoke gently. The tone of his voice, for some reason, made my lip quiver as my mask broke away. I looked ahead again and directed any unwanted facial expression to the squinting of my eyes. My vision was still as crappy as ever. Already I was beginning to have a perma-headache from it.

"I know," I found myself replying. My mouth was moving faster than my mind as I formed sentences. "But I want to. You have the right to know. It's just...I don't know, hard, I guess? Hard for me? Especially...especially since I can recall everything that happened, like, almost perfectly." I could still feel the templar's heavy, severed tongue sitting in my mouth. I could still hear the wet  _smack_ as I spat it onto Meredith's chestplate. I could still feel the invasion inside me. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, though. After so much time had passed."

"Do not apologize for something you shouldn't be. Thank you for sharing something personal with me at all."

The hanging silence that came afterwards was too much for me to bear, so I shifted in the leather saddle and moved to a more comfortable topic. "So. Hallah Lynne."

"I do not wish to discuss anything about her." Solas' jaw clenched and his voice grew sharp and cold.

Ah.

Another shift in the saddle. "How's Wisdom doing? I haven't spoken to her in a while."

"She has been worried about you, of course. I suggest visiting her when you have the chance."

I rolled my head back and breathed out a puff of steam. "Meh. That takes energy. I have little to spare nowadays."

"Should I tell her that when she questions your whereabouts?"

The laugh that sentence produced scraped against my throat. It felt good. Like scraping away frost on glass. "Oh, jeez, please don't. I don't need to be terrified of falling asleep, as well."

Solas chuckled, which drew my gaze back to him. Freak, I could study that jawline and the shape of his nose for hours--

Too fast. Too fast. I'm taking things too fast.

Or was I?

 _Beginning something._ That notion was too vague, too obscure, too...too  **aargh.** I was going to mess things up. 

Alaran Lavellan, a grown fucking woman with zero experience in the world of relationships. Was it even going to  _be_ a relationship? Holy shit, Solas was an ancient elf. How did he take on relationships? I bet  _he_ had sex that lasted years or something, and I've never been down that way.

Shit, would I even be comfortable having sex?

I made a high-pitched hum which turned into a low-pitched hum and blew a raspberry. Too many things to worry about. Too many. I had to distract myself with...with  _something._

"Solas," I somewhat barked, "talk to me about Orzammar's failing political and societal structure and how their dependency on lyrium and the caste system will ultimately be their downfall."

If he heard the tension and frustration in my voice, he didn't give away that he had. "Of course. Where should we begin? At the lyrium, or the caste system?"

I felt myself relax into my debating, intellectual mode. It felt natural--and much needed. "Hm. Can we begin at the crowning of Prince Bhelen during the Fifth Blight? Oh! Wait, no, let's talk about the corruption that takes place in the Proving Grounds.  _Or_ we could discuss Threestone how his decision was the turning point in dwarven history."

"Why not all of them?" Solas was smugly smirking as if he had come up with the genius idea to not only talk, but talk  _a lot._ What a nerd.

The notion did bring a smile to my face, though. It pinched at my cold cheeks and reminded me of how chapped my lips were. "We do have all day, don't we?"

-

At the end of the second day of traveling through the valley, I got to take a look at myself in a mirror Josephine magically procured for me.

I wish she hadn't.

"Oh my crap," I muttered as I examined my horrendous state, "I look awful."

"You could look worse, in my opinion," Blackwall offered. I briefly smiled at him then went back to frowning at my reflection.

"Do you think my hair is going to be perpetually a dirty-sock gray? Or can it get back to white?" I wondered aloud. "Also, I think I need more healing ointment for this cut on my face. I don't want it to scar. Got enough of those." That statement made me reach down and expose the mottled flesh on my neck for a few moments. Then I made a cross-eyed face.

Unfortunately, there was nobody that went off of what I had just said.

Things were...still quiet after my little revelation. While the Inquisition in its entirety was progressing, my relationship with those close to me had come to a grinding halt. The Inner Circle had basically been cut in half--because of me.

Was there something better that I could have said?

I missed Varric the most. Out of everyone...I didn't know, I guess I thought he'd finally believe me. 

It shouldn't hurt as much as it did. 

"He'll come around, you know," Dorian quietly spoke to me when he saw the poorly hidden expression on my face. "The dwarf can't stay away from a good story."

I gave Dorian a tight-lipped smile and put the mirror away. I tried not to let my friend's words affect me, but...had I always been just a story to Varric? And now that my story took a twist that he didn't like, was he going to turn away?

It wasn't hard to suppress the urge to let my lip quiver. The fact that it was there in the first place was frustrating. Now was not the time to let weakness crawl in and eat me from the inside out.

I found myself getting to my feet. Bubs followed, yawning widely as he stood. "If any of you need me, I'll be in the tent going over paperwork."

"You're not going to amaze us with tales of your homeland?" Dorian asked.

"Not tonight, sadly," I shrugged. "But tomorrow, I promise."

"Get some rest, Herald," Blackwall advised, though he knew I wouldn't take the suggestion to heart.

"Will do," I smirked. Because I had been holding back too many peace signs since coming here, I lazily threw one up against my chest. They were probably years out of style, by now--oh lord, the prospect of me being old and behind on world events and pop culture back on Earth made my stomach roil--but only I knew that. 

As I withdrew to the tent to go over the losses the Inquisition took and prepare tomorrow's meeting with the advisers, I took off the glove covering my finger and examined it. 

Hallah Lynne had healed the one broken by the trebuchet during Haven, even when she could have healed my knee or my ribs or the numerous other wounds that spattered across my body. 

My finger.

My finger on my right hand, specifically. The hand I use to write, to draw, to play instruments, to poke, to hold, to fight...There was a large amount of importance in just this little appendage.

I felt it with my other hand. There were small little bumps that lined the bone, and it took a slightly left--and permanent--turn at the first digit. It was as if Hallah did a purposefully imperfect job. 

That was probably true.

A small puff of air escaped my nostrils in amusement. Maybe she wasn't such a Bill Cipher after all.

Bubba's soft growl pulled me from my veering train of thought (that train of thought being: how did  _Gravity Falls_ end? Which resulted in me beginning to count off all the shows and sequels I'd never get to finish).

"Hey, easy there, it's just me." 

After licking his chops, Bubs trotted to the tent-shadows on my right and butted his head against Varric's chest. The dwarf made a noise and halfheartedly tried to push him down. "Okay, yeah, I get it, lay off," he muttered to my dog. 

"Bubberston,  _aufhören,"_ I lightly laughed. On command he turned around and returned to my side. 

When I lifted my blurred gaze back to Varric, my smile had never been there in the first place. "Do you need something, Master Tethras?"

"Yeah," Varric replied. There was a little crack in his voice. "Do you want to talk?"

"...Yeah."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy guys, sorry this update is one big discombobulated chapter. A lot was happening and I'm not that good enough of a writer to put it in all smoothly. Still, I hope you liked it. 
> 
> Also, I just want to point out how important it is to have Josephine Montilyet on your side. She could turn your life upside-down and inside-out if she wanted. 
> 
> And I hope all of you are staying lovely. France is good! I mean, it's really different from America, but I'm having a lot of fun. Here's something I didn't know existed! They will actually! Cancel classes! Because of so much rain! Haha, we never get that in Idaho. Oh, and another thing: nobody in the world knows where Idaho is. I honestly don't blame them.
> 
> I'm found rolling in dem tumblr feels at http://i-dropped-the-chief.tumblr.com/


	40. From Their Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al from the perspectives of others

The past couple of days had not been kind to Alaran. Though she had new clothes--and a coat that fitted her, Varric noted--her face was gaunt, she needed healing ointment for the scabbed cut on her cheek, and she was still limping. Shit, since when did Al turn from looking like a teen to an adult? Sure, she had that freaky ageless expression to her because of the Fade, but now there were small crinkles at the corner of her eyes, her jawline was sharper, and her long hair was always braided or piled atop her head. 

Five years changed people, whether or not they ever admitted it. And Al had changed on her own, without Varric. Sure, he'd get letters from her and they'd always play their stupid messenger games throughout Thedas, but one day she was nineteen...and now she was somewhere between twenty-four and thirty. 

Time in the Fade made age determination difficult.

Then again, Al's whole life involved high levels of difficulty.

She, Bubs, and Varric walked silently to the main Inquisition tent. The absence of any conversation made for a tense atmosphere. When he dared to glance up at her, he saw Al slightly squinting through her visible "serious face."

He looked back down.

Alaran pulled back the flap of the tent, which was still illuminated with low-burning candles used for the meetings held throughout the day. Varric swore that he would stay away from this Eye of the Shitstorm, yet here he was, contributing to its chaos.

Hey, not a bad line for a story.

The sound of rustling papers brought Varric's attention back to reality. Alaran was already going through them, expression blank as a slate and violet eyes retaining all she saw. "What do you want to talk about?" she simply asked, gaze still fixed on the papers.

Damn, he should have had a drink before doing this.

"I don't think I'm the one who should be starting," Varric said. 

Alaran glanced up at him. He winced. "You're the one who came to me, remember," she said flatly.

"Right, right, thanks for jogging my memory," Varric sighed. He took a seat on a stool in the tent. It reminded him of how much his lower back ached.

The elf looked his way again. Her brows drew slightly together. "You're grimacing," she noted. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," Varric halfheartedly chuckled. The corner of Alaran's mouth twitched then straightened. He folded his arms and took a deep breath. "I...Al, where do I even begin?"

"At the beginning. When you decided that you preferred my lies to my truths."

She was hurting. It was deep and guarded, but she was. Because Varric knew that, he couldn't get mad at her sharpness with him. "Can you blame me?" Varric eventually breathed. "The things you're saying..."

"Don't," Alaran whispered, cutting him off. Her eyes still wouldn't meet his. "You tell me, Varric, why you don't believe me."

Shit. This was where things got complicated. 

When Varric took too long to answer, Alaran spoke again. It was soft but not kind. "Is the story you had for me not playing out the way you wanted? Is that it? If you acknowledge the truth, you won't be able to write what you had in mind."

"That's not it," Varric quietly protested.

"Then what is?"

"You think you're just a story to me, Al?" Varric questioned instead. Her face remained expressionless and she did not answer. 

Something deep stuck Varric. It thundered silently in his ears and made his throat burn.

That was what she thought. Alaran, of all people, thought that.

But was it true?

"I don't know what I am to you, Varric. Not anymore. You care for me but don't believe me when I say who I really am. You love me but think the words that come out of my mouth are lies. For years you wanted me to tell you the truth, to tell you the  _actual_ story, but once I do you reject it." When Alaran finally looked at him, her eyes were a solid shade of plum. It sucked in the light and let none escape. "But you know what pains me the most, Varric? It's the fact that I would do...I would do anything to have you believe me. Because to not have you on my side is something unfathomable.

"I don't know what to do, though, Varric. Not when you don't even know yourself." Alaran swallowed, but it didn't stop her voice from catching when she started her next sentence. "You always see yourself as a third-party storyteller, never truly engaged and never truly involved. You make your quips and your comebacks and your remarks, and you have our back when we need it. But you're the narrator, not the character. Never that. Has it ever occurred to you, though, that you are an integral part of  _my_ story? That because of  _you,_ I have grown and matured? You can't just...you can't just withdraw yourself from my life without me noticing, Varric. You can't just call me a liar without it breaking my foundations."

Alaran's shoulders began to sag. She bowed her head and coughed. Varric's heart immediately dropped into his stomach.  _She wasn't supposed to be sick anymore,_ he thought as panic infringed on his thoughts. She coughed again and cleared her throat. "I'm--"

"You're still sick, aren't you?" Varric whispered, cutting Alaran off from whatever sentence she was going to say next. Dark lips that once had blood flecked on them pursed together.

"No, I'm not...I'm not sick," she eventually replied. "I just have a dry throat from all the damn talking." A stray strand of hair was hurriedly tucked behind one of her ears. "I told you that I'd never be sick in that way again. The only thing I'm  _sick_ of right now is--"

"My shit, yeah yeah," Varric finished knowingly. Alaran's veneer finally broke as a scowl appeared.

"The only person who had the right to say that line was me and you stole it."

Varric couldn't help but chuckle a bit. Alaran's lips fought to keep its scowl. He watched and waited for her to lose the battle, and felt his eyes slightly crinkle in amusement as the dimples on Alaran's cheeks revealed themselves. 

She rubbed them away with a quick swiped of her hand and turned back to the contents of the table, saying, "You can't do that. This is a serious discussion."

When Varric only chuckled even more, Alaran sputtered and punched the table. "Dammit, Varric! Stop that!"

But he just hunched over, pinched the bridge of his nose, and snorted. "Varric!" Alaran screeched, but she was laughing, too. "It's not funny, you nug humper! For once in your life, take things seriously! I'm only laughing because you're laughing, not because this is amusing! Varric!" 

Something had ruptured in his brain, because for the life of him he couldn't quit. Not even when he heard Alaran stomp over to give him a shake. She grabbed him by his coat and jostled him a few times until he looked up at her. "I swear to god Varric," she started angrily, but there was a poorly hidden grin in the mixture of emotions on her face. "I'm going to punt you into the side of a mountain if you don't stuff a sock in it."

Before she could get another insult, Varric had trapped her in his arms and held her tight. She was still too thin, too sharp even with the layers of clothes on her. Yet as she slowly wrapped her arms around his to return the gesture, he found his ear pressed against her sternum. Varric listened to her breathe, felt her chest rise and fall.

Andraste's ass.

There was nothing. No rattling, no wheezing, no croaking. Everything was...there. Whole. Clean. 

"Please," Alaran murmured low in her throat, "just...believe me. Start from somewhere. Anywhere. Please."

Varric clung tighter to her, feeling a solid, healthy heartbeat thump against his ear. It was all he could do. The fact that he was holding Alaran--in this tent and in this world--had to be something.

"I'll try, Al. I'll try."

-

Early mornings were a bitch. It was too cold, too quiet, too...gah, fuck, Bull couldn't even think right. Not when there were still stars on one edge of the sky and pale violet on the other.

But even though he had firm opinions about mornings, it didn't stop him from getting up at the asscrack of dawn to do his exercises. Yeah, he did  _more_ afterwards with the Chargers, but working out alone always helped clear his mind. And after these past couple of days...he needed a blank slate.

So it was kind of a let-down when he found the one person who caused all the chaos in his brain.

"Hello, The Iron Bull," Alaran greeted cordially when she saw him round the wall of solid stone that the Frostbacks were composed of. She was currently bent in half with her hands gripping her ankles. "Sorry, I'll find another isolated cropping of rocks. There's plenty around here."

He grunted and said, "Nah, it's fine. You were here first."

But Alaran had already straightened her back. She took in a deep breath and stretched her interlaced hands to the sky. "Who was here first, really? Not me. Perhaps the wind as it carved time into stone? Perhaps the stone as it faced the wind? Or perhaps it was neither, and something ancient and unseen claimed this as its own." 

Then she gave him a smirking, sidelong glance. Her eyes glinted in the dim. "Ah, I'm just fucking with you." Her arms lowered back to her sides. "I was going to do some arm workouts back in my tent, anyways. Gaining muscle and strength back from being sick won't come naturally, you know. The only reason I'm out here is because I can't sleep in past the fucking dawn of time itself, anymore. It's both a blessing and a curse."

"You should be careful," Bull found himself replying, "your body went through the ringer just a few days ago. Hurting yourself more won't do anything."

The smirk still stayed. "Don't worry about me. I've been chugging potions from Stitches and Adan since I woke up here. I mean, I probably  _shouldn't,_ but I shorn't." Then she snorted at the made-up word she used. "Anyways, have fun, Bull. Try not to hurt yourself." 

Alaran started walking past Bull, giving him the time to stare her down and get a better grip on just what the fuck was happening.

She couldn't be from another world. That was...shit, that was fucked up.

The worst thing about it, though, was that it really would make sense if she was. Alaran moved differently, spoke differently, thought differently. She would have had to be conditioned in a place removed from the culture of Thedas in order to be herself. 

That would also mean that Thedas was a lot smaller than it thought it was. And meaninglessness, Bull supposed, was what he was afraid of.

The Herald waved a hand in departure. "See you on the flipside, space cowboy," she chimed as she began her descent back to camp. "Don't let your nipples freeze off or anything."

Alaran Lavellan, the Woman Who Continuously Liked Fucking with Bull's Brain. Yet here he was, still with the Inquisition and in the Inner Circle. Close enough that he was there when she revealed who she was, where she came from. Had she done it on purpose, letting Bull in? Did she realize that he had a duty to the Qun, that he would have to give this information to his superiors? They could manipulate the Inquisition, tie strings to Alaran's will, if they were given it. 

Or did she know that he wouldn't?

Bull, Boss, and Red had an agreement that he would only send missives that the spymaster approved of. He did, 'course, but they all knew that it was his job to send secret ones on the side. That's the way it was, and that's the way it'd be. So when they found out that Alaran was sick, it was his responsibility to inform the Qun of the situation. They would evaluate the revelation, make a decision about what to do, and act accordingly. 

They never did, though, because Bull never told them. Did Alaran know that?

Did she already know that he wouldn't tell them about her origins?

He remembered the first day he met the Herald on the shore of the Storm Coast. Already she was looking ill, but he couldn't determine if it was an actual sickness or lack of sleep. Still, he could clearly picture just how dangerous Alaran appeared for that brief moment after they made the deal of signing The Bull's Chargers on with the Inquisition. Everything had gone from calm, curious, and open, to hard, sharp, and cold.  _"You will be faced with the possibility of becoming Tal-Vashoth. Can you handle that reality if it comes true?"_

Sure, it was a reality. One that had been distant and hard to imagine. One that haunted Bull's nightmares, not every waking second. 

But now?

It was a short yelp that pulled his thoughts away from the brimming darkness. Iron Bull turned and deftly moved to the source of the noise. He rounded the cropping of rocks to see--

Alaran had her head lolled back, mouth open, and was freely laughing. She was submerged up to her chest in the snow. "I look..." she gasped, "I look like a fucking spring daisy!" One of Alaran's eyes cracked open and swiveled over to him, full of spark and light.

Bull couldn't help but chuckle. He stepped through the snow and felt coldness seep through his boots and trousers. "Come on, Boss, lemme help ya."

Alaran lifted up her Marked hand and waited for him to grab onto it. In one effortless tug she was hauled up from the trap she had fallen into. Bull lifted his arm and lightly dropped her onto a more stable rock. "Take the same way you came from, next time."

"But that's no fun," Alaran replied as she brushed off the snow from her pants and the bottom of her coat. "Then again, it's what always gets me into trouble." She stood up straight and rolled her shoulders back a few times. It produced the sounds of bone popping.

Bull couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the noises. "Your humors are out-of-balance," he commented.

It earned a snort from Alaran. "The bursting of nitrogen bubbles has nothing to do with the balance of my so-called "humors." I'm not breaking my body, I promise. I don't know why people are so freaked out about it here. It feels really good." She then continued on to pop her knuckles and shins, making an  _ooh_ face as she did so.

Iron Bull grunted and looked to the slowly rising sun. "I'll stick to only having my bones splinter if I can't help it."

Alaran stretched again and turned her head in the same direction. "It's very pretty, isn't it? My eyesight has gone to shit, but I know it is. There's something...otherworldly about it. Something transcendent." The smile that flickered across her dark lips had a twinge of melancholy to it. She angled her head to Bull, and the smile grew. "The feeling doesn't change, I've found, no matter what world you're in."

-

He woke up to look at pure, crisp blue sky. It was beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful and distant. Uncaring of his pain. Reminding him that he was nameless among the Inquisition. That nobody here cared for him.

Healers came and went, trying to ease the fire sluicing in his legs, but they could never extinguish it. Nor could they help the dreams he had--dreams filled with the haze of red lyrium and the screams of all the people he couldn't save. Out of all the friends he had made during his time serving a greater cause, he was the only one living.

But not for long. Death was still coming. He knew it. He knew it, and didn't want it. His family was in Amaranthine, where they waited for him to return home. Jules wanted to take the children and come to Haven because even though he was sending most of his wages their way, the ache of the distance between them was becoming too much. 

Had they come, he would not have been able to protect them. 

And he was sorry. Sorry he was too weak to be selfish and have them come to him, too weak to be able to keep them from harm if they had been in Haven at the time of attack, too weak to live long enough to see them again. 

Andraste guide him, but he didn't want to die.

Or did he?

He was barely conscious when he felt the wagon he was laying in rock as somebody climbed in. Another healer, most likely, coming to tell him that it was going to be okay and he would be just fine. That there was nothing to worry about.

There was everything to worry about, though. But he was too tired to keep it up. 

"Oh, my, you look horrible," a new voice said. He managed to open his eyes and draw in a ragged breath through parched lips. An insult tried to conjure itself in his mind, but it was foggy and unwilling to completely form. 

The insult dissipated completely when he saw violet eyes peering down at him. 

 _Herald,_ he tried to whisper, but his voice wouldn't work.

"Yes, yes, it's me, I know," she smirked gently. "No need to get your undies in a twist about it." 

The Herald got on her knees beside him, setting a worn leather bag next to her. "My eyesight is horrendously nearsighted, but I can still see when somebody's in bad shape close up. I'm going to examine your leg, see what can be done."

He tried to protest because this was the Herald of Holy Andraste. She shouldn't see the mangled atrocity that was his leg, shouldn't have to get her hands dirty with his bodily fluids--

A canteen of water was gently pressed to his lips as another hand cradled his head. He felt the warmth of Andraste's Mark against his scalp. It caused him to tremble.

"Sh, sh, take it easy," the Herald instructed quietly. "I'm nothing special, I promise. I like to think I am, but I'm really not."

He had never heard her voice, before. Only saw her lips moving as she spoke with Commander Cullen, only saw her laughing with friends in the tavern, only loved and respected her from a distance. Now she was helping him drink water as she spoke with a soft, low, lyrical tone. "My name is Alaran. And I'm going to help you live, today."

Violet eyes as sharp as the mountain sky was blue shone with truth. His vision grew blurry as hot tears began to brim. No. He couldn't cry in front of the Herald. Maker,  _please,_ don't let him weep.

She set the canteen aside and took off her well-tailored coat. The scarf she was wearing loosened around her neck as she moved, and he caught a glimpse of the scar across her throat. What would the world have been like had that cut gone any deeper?

The Herald Alaran then said, "I'm going to do a little examination, now. Just remember to breathe."

His eyes strained in their sockets as he watched her lean over the festering wound in his leg. The kindness in her face had faded, leaving somebody calculating and precise. She peeled back the bandages with nothing more than a furrowed brow, and didn't so much as breathe differently when she saw what lie underneath. But her face grew colder, harsher. He hissed between his teeth as fingers lightly prodded the injury. 

Eventually she spoke to him again. "I'll be right back, friend. There are some healers I need to...talk with."

Before he could even thank the Herald Alaran, she stood up, retrieved her coat but left her medical bag, and hopped off the cart. 

He lost track of time in the blue, blue sky, until he heard the Herald's voice once more. Only, it wasn't as kind as it had been. Why was she angry? Was she angry because he was too weak? He didn't want to disappoint...disappoint...

"He's almost gone already." Adan, the one who was gruff but kind, was speaking. "I'm sorry, my lady, but--"

"Have you considered amputation?" the Herald Alaran broke in. Silence ensued, until Adan managed to reply.

"Even if we were to do that, the infection could still spread. And then what? He still dies? After even more pain? Why would we put his poor soul through that?"

"Because everybody deserves to live."

"You don't think I know that? But Herald, he'll be--"

"Disabled?"

"Disabled, if not dead!"

"Tell me why, Adan, you're so afraid of risking death that you abstain from fighting for life?" When there was no answer, the Herald continued. "Get me Kiren and Isolan, and have your hands washed and ready for procedure when we make camp this evening. Then I want our soldier moved to an operating table, prepped and ready for amputation."

He tried swallowing, but found that he could not. 

"Herald--"

"That's an order."

"...As you command."

The wagon dipped as Andraste's Dalish heroine climbed back on. She offered another friendly smile, and he had to wonder how many others saw that same expression before they were sent to the Void. 

"Hello again," she said as she crouched down to start rummaging through her medicine bag. "I'm assuming from the look on your face that you overheard Adan's and my conversation concerning your leg. I do think we have a chance at saving you, even if we save only...most of you." She pulled out a worn, half-empty bottle filled with pale pink liquid and examined it closely. "But I do want to know: do you want to be saved?"

Violet eyes slid over to him. The smile was softer, now, but not deceiving. Honest. 

And he thought of his family. He thought of Jules' hazel eyes and pink lips, of his children's curly hair and pealing laughter, of his arms trying to wrap all three of them into one giant hug. 

But then he thought of the pain. The immediate, burning, sickening pain. They would understand. They'd have to. They would understand his suffering. 

And he did not want to suffer, anymore.

"Just...let me go," he rasped. "Please."

The Herald stilled for a moment before setting the vial quietly back into the bag. "You're in unbearable pain, I know. And your desire to return to Andraste is not being held against you. Not by me, not by anybody. I understand what you are feeling. I'm no stranger to that look on your face, that resolution in your heart." One of her hands placed itself atop his. "But I've found that the bravest thing to do is live. To choose to be is what makes heroes of us all. Glory can be found in death, of course...but  _happiness_ is found in life. 

"Or, at least, that's what I believe."

Hot tears rolled down the cold skin on his temples. He would have sobbed, but doing so would only flare the wound in his leg. "You are not beyond help. Let me try. Please."

The Herald was now holding his hand between both of hers and pressing it against her heart. She was no longer smiling. She was pleading. 

Pleading with  _him._

He could hardly believe it. 

Through Alaran Lavellan's eyes, he saw the past, the future. He saw the day he married Jules, saw the night when he thought he'd lose her to their first child, saw the day he left to join the Inquisition. And he saw the pain on Jules' face when she looked at his amputated leg, saw the sadness of his children when he couldn't play with them, saw the love they would still have for him.

"Please," she repeated, bringing him back to the pain, back to the present. 

He gave the best nod that he could manage as he blinked away tears. "Aye. You...you can."

Her chest fluttered with relief. The Herald...she  _cared_ for him. For all of the Inquisition. She could have been doing a thousand other things, yet here she was, doing  _this._

When dusk set he was moved to an operating table in a tent with Adan, two mage healers, and the Herald. The roof of it wasn't as beautiful as the sky, but it was far from distant. It provided shelter and warmth. Lanterns swinging from the top pole illuminated the room.

Alaran Lavellan wore a surgeon's apron with the rest of them. She was the one who had poured a potion down his throat that made him lose sensation in his appendages, and she was the one who held his hand a final time before lifting the saw and bringing it down on his leg.

And she was there when he opened his eyes again.

"Hello, friend," she whispered through the haze settled over his mind. "Hello, Marcas."

-

Solas was waiting for Alaran as she exited the healer's tent. She was taking off a bloody apron with bloody hands, and her entire body screamed fatigue. Bubs, who had been patiently sitting outside, stood up when he saw her. 

She managed to smile when she noticed Solas. One of Adan's apprentices took her apron from her and whisked it away. Alaran held up her red forearms and said, "I'd give you a hug, but I'm a little...messy."

He nodded in understanding. "How did the operation go?" he inquired instead. 

"Bad. Amputations are always bad," Alaran replied as she sauntered towards him. Her eyes glinted in the early evening light. "There's too much of everything that shouldn't be outside of a human being. And even with magic to guide things shut, it's still a dangerous task. But it was successful. He'll live, if he's taken care of properly and is under constant watch. And my thinly veiled threats will ensure both things happen. He should be waking up in a couple of hours; I intend to be there."

Her hair had come undone from its bun at some point. Alaran rolled her eyes to the top of her forehead, frowned at the chunks of grayish-white hair hanging loose, and began putting it back together with her still-bloodied hands. Red was then smeared across her brow, by her cheeks, on top of her ears, and in the strands of her hair itself. 

Solas merely raised an eyebrow as he watched her in action. "I know, I know," Alaran sighed. "But I'm such a mess anyways that it doesn't really matter, anymore."

"That was what I came to speak with you about, actually," Solas said, unable to stop some small semblance of pride from seeping into his tone.

Alaran gave him an odd look. "Damn, Solas, that's cold," she drawled.

He realized how his poor choice of words sounded. The pride extinguished. "That is not what I meant," he breathed, flustered at Alaran's smirk. The ensuing chuckle that resonated in her throat, however, warmed his chest.

"So what did you mean?" Alaran countered.

"Seeing as my words have fallen short, it may be best to just have you follow me."

She tilted her head, curiosity alight on her face despite the apparent exhaustion. "I'm the Herald of Andraste. Surely you're not suggesting that I neglect my duties to follow you to some unknown location for an unknown purpose."

"It involves a bath," Solas said bluntly. Alaran's facade fell in an instant.

"Why are we still standing here?"

After grabbing herself a towel, a toiletry kit, and a change of clothes, Solas led Alaran--and Bubba--away from the Inquisition's camp. There would be scouts trailing them, they both knew, but the only thing they'd be able to report to the spymaster was the Herald taking a bath in a hot spring. He had rediscovered it the night before while searching the area through the Fade, and was pleased when he found it in real life. It was small, but the absence of any other occupants made it possible to use. And though the water was verging on too hot for it to be comfortable, Solas had a feeling Alaran wouldn't say anything against it. 

Alaran audibly gasped when she saw it with her own eyes. "Holy  _shit,"_ she wheezed in disbelief. "Solas.  _Solas._ _Solas!"_

It was rewarding to see her reaction. "I wanted to share it with you before anybody else came across its whereabouts."

"Have you taken a bath, yet?"

"No. You are the Herald; you have priority."

"You know, usually I'd argue with that," Alaran said absently as she slowly lifted her scarf over her head, "but today I wholeheartedly agree with you." 

Solas smile and turned around to leave. "I will keep watch with your hound while you bathe. Though I suspect that he might be in more of a need to wash than you."

Alaran scoffed. "Yeah, but I'm more willing than he is." 

Bubs snuffed his nose in the snow, unaware or ignoring the current conversation. Solas followed him, leaving Alaran to hopefully find a minute of rest for the evening. "Hey, Solas?" she called before he dipped under a sprinkling of sharp, dark rocks jutting from the snow. 

"Yes?" he prompted without turning his head.

"Thank you. This means a lot."

"You are welcome. And I am happy that you are happy."

He knew she smiled. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But seriously, I can never go more than one chapter where Al and Varric aren't on good terms.
> 
> I wanted to get this chapter posted before I left for London for a week, but obviously that didn't happen lol. But it was my goal to kinda show how some other people saw Alaran. Especially Varric and an "NPC" soldier. 
> 
> Even though it's National Writing Month, I doubt I will be able to write a ton. School has got me super busy, but I still can't wait to write the next few chapters coming up. Hint hint, there will be a Hawke.
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys. You're all great, and I'm glad that you decided to stick around this far. I love you!


	41. Appointed and Anointed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al reaches her new home

Skyhold.

Simple words could not do her justice. She stood proudly on the mountain range, piercing the sky with spires older than the human race. When I saw her for the first time she beckoned to me, like she had been waiting for the Inquisition since the turn of the age. 

Or, at least that's what I imagined her to look like. In actuality, all I saw was a gray blur amidst...more blurs. This whole shit vision thing was getting real old real fast. 

When I looked to Solas, though, I could clearly see a softness to his features and happiness in his eyes. He was home. "We are going to do great things here," I smiled, secretly hoping that he'd take notice of the slight emphasis I put on "we." Though I had been partially speaking about the Inquisition in its entirety, we were both aware that with our heads put together we could do almost anything. And I was looking forward to helping him see beyond the preconceptions he had for the present world.

"That is my hope, yes," Solas responded as he continued to fondly gaze upon the fortress. We had a few more moments to ourselves before we alerted the rest of the Inquisition that Skyhold had been found. Because of that, I closed the gap between our shoulders so that they were touching. He stiffened at the movement but didn't shy away. I scratched at the corner of my lip to hide the lame, giddy smile trying to force its way in. 

"So which one of us is going to break it to Josephine that she gets to be in charge of renovating an enormous castle?"

Solas snorted a laugh. "I am not the one who has the Anchor on my hand."

My jaw dropped and I shoved him away from me with an elbow. "Which is your fault!" I shot back. Solas only chuckled more as he regained his footing. The stance I was now in made me veer on my train-of-thought. "Holy shit, Solas, what if I got the Mark on my foot? Like, what if instead of picking it up I tried to go Lionel Messi on it and--" Snow shimmered in the air as I did a horrible soccer kick into a nearby drift. My fists thrust themselves in the air. "Right into Corypheus' nutsack! Except, you know, the power to manipulate the Veil would now be on my big toe or something."

"Assuming a connection would be made instantaneously and through the layer of your boot," Solas corrected haughtily. I frowned at him, but it disappeared the moment he showed a smirk of his own. "But yes. It would be quite amusing to watch you attempt to seal rifts with your foot."

I brought up my hand to examine for the billionth time. A piece of the Fade, branded into my calloused and scarred palm. It was currently resting, but I was sure that it would begin to awaken the closer we got to Skyhold. Whenever there was a change in the Veil's density or strength it acted up, even if there wasn't necessarily a rift nearby. "Man," I found myself saying quietly, "this thing is going to kill me one day, isn't it?"

The lightheartedness of our conversation had been snuffed out by my sudden, somber question. After a moment, Solas cupped my hand with his own. The touch jumpstarted tinglies in my stomach. "I won't allow that to happen."

"Yeah, you're right," I laughed too softly, "I've almost died too many times for me to actually ever die." But my gaze held sadness when I looked back up to him. "But just in case..."

"Alaran," Solas said seriously. Both of his hands covered mine, hiding away the Mark that hummed so familiarly from his touch. "Do not be afraid."

"I'm not afraid. Or at least not afraid of what you're thinking," I confessed, "But I know that my body wasn't built to sustain this for more than a few years--even if those years are tenuous at best. Something's going to happen where...well, I don't know, really. But something's going to happen." I found comfort in maintaining eye contact with Solas, and kept it as I continued to speak my unguarded, unfiltered thoughts. "And I don't want to sit around waiting for that day to come, but with everything I do and say and command and change will only draw that time closer. So how can I not help but dread not the death--the sacrifice--but the time that slowly dwindles?" My next words caused my eyes to flicker downwards to my covered hand before coming back again. "Whether my end is with a whisper or a bang, I don't like trying to guess how long my fuse is. Already I feel like I'm running out of time. Solas, I have the power to  _do_ something more for this world. But I don't want to work--I don't want to  _lead--_ like I don't have enough time."

The air suddenly felt heavy, and I continued to look to Solas as if I would find some kind of answer in his gray-blue eyes, in his kind mouth. "You do have the power, Alaran," he eventually spoke, voice silencing all other noises in the world. "Do not let it be overshadowed by an undetermined hourglass. Work with perseverance, with passion, not haste and fear. Nations have fallen to leaders who are fueled with the latter." Deep, ancient pain flickered across Solas' visage, reminding me that I was speaking to a person who quite possibly had the same fears and doubts I did at some point. Maybe even still. "But, if it is any consolation, I will do everything I can to prevent the Mark from prematurely ending your labors."

Though my smile wasn't exactly carefree, it was small and true. "Thank you, Solas." I nearly mouthed the phrase because my voice was so quiet.

I think Solas wanted to kiss me, right then. His lips parted slightly and his fingers lightly pressed against my skin. My head tilted a fraction and my smile faded, and holy shit I wasn't prepared for this but was he really going to do--

He pulled back an inch, even though it felt like a mile. "You are welcome," Solas said, but it sounded like a statement given when his mind was elsewhere. He slowly lowered my hand and let it go, where I immediately shoved it back into my coat pocket.

"Come on, Short Round, let's rally the Inquisition and tell them that we found our Home."

I caught a glimpse of a quick smile from Solas. I assumed it was because I mentioned  _his_ home and not that I called him a nickname nobody would understand here. Still, it made me happy. 

Together we descended the ridge and made our way back to the camp.

-

Old, old magic was imbued into the stones of Skyhold. So much that it caused the irregular to occur. Though the place had not been maintained for an innumerable amount of years, green grass thrived in the courtyard, aspens and pines swayed in a breeze warmer than the rest of the Frostbacks, and nothing was in  _complete_ shambles. And it may have just been my imagination, it seemed to give me and everybody else energy where it had been lacking. I knew magic didn't work on me, per say, but there were always other factors that could have some sort of effect. 

As the Inquisition began discovering parts of Skyhold that was now theirs, Josephine ushered me into a musty, chilly chamber so I could change clothes and fix up a bit. "You're planning something," I muttered to her as I took off my coat. "You should just tell me now so I can play my part."

She gave me a perfectly crafted, pleasant smile. "I assure you, Herald, that you will not be going into anything that you haven't already prepared yourself for."

I paused for a moment as I considered her words, then said in an off-handed, deeper voice, "True, true."

Josephine's humor was always a hit-and-miss, but she found amusement in what I had just done. After a nice chuckle that was half-covered by fingers stained with ink, Josephine left me to change. I dug around in my chest that had been put there and pulled out a somewhat-clean outfit. I continued to stick to my Free Marches style and tied a simple lambswool sash around my waist. I hoped that for whatever the advisers were planning for me didn't involve any fanciness, because hoo boy, I was working the monochromatic shades.

After combing my hair and putting it in a braid, I made my way back out into the bustling courtyard. We had been here for no more than five hours, and already tents had been pitched, reconstruction efforts were underway, and a steady stream of wagons were coming through the gates that hadn't originally been with us. Through combined efforts between Leliana, Josephine, Varric, and me, we were able to interlace our connections and guide the willing and wandering to Skyhold. Our timing was perfect, thankfully. That would have been awkward if we arrived to Skyhold and found that a surface dwarf was ready to sell us fine dwarven crafts straight from Orzammar. 

I squinted around and saw the four blobs of Cullen's, Cassandra's, Josephine's, and Leliana's figures looking my way. I hoped that I saw the Seeker beckon to me and began to walk over. Their outlines became clear when I was about six feet away, but upon my arrival three out of the four promptly scattered. Cassandra Pentaghast greeted me in her usual staunch, bold stance. "They will continue to arrive daily from every settlement in the region," she commented as her gaze fell on a family that was unloading what little supplies they had from a wagon. "Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage." Cassandra began to walk, knowing that I would follow. We began making our way up a flight of stone stairs. "But you know as well as I that if word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated." Cassandra pulled up short when we reached the top of the stairs, but I had a feeling that we were going to keep going up another, narrower one that led to the main hall--and had a landing between the ninety-degree turn that overlooked the entire courtyard. "But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

I involuntarily closed my fingers around the Mark that had been glowing ever since we stepped into Skyhold. "It was my charming and witty personality, I know," I smirked. "He couldn't compete against me, so he wanted me eliminated. It's not the first time somebody has tried it, and it definitely won't be the last." I breathed in deeply and folded my arms. "Little do they know that I'm the best at anything and everything."

"Amusing," Cassandra drawled dryly. "I have seen how you dance and your poor directional skills, so forgive me if I beg to differ." 

"Ooh," I winced as I clutched my heart and slightly doubled over. "Fatal wound, Pentaghast."

She snorted unceremoniously and got a chuckle out of me. When I straightened my back again Cassandra began moving up the stairs. I bit back a sigh and joined her. "Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are Corypheus' rival because of what  _you_ did. And we know it. All of us."

Leliana was waiting for us in the landing. She was holding an ornamental sword out in front of her reverently. "The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has  _already_ been leading it," Cassandra continued to say. I turned my head to the courtyard below and saw people gathering, watching. Waiting for me to confirm my role in this organization.

"You," Cassandra repeated. 

The serious line of my lips aptly portrayed how I was feeling on the inside. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I had to question. "Not only am I an elf, but I'm from another world entirely."

There was hardly a moment's pause before I got an answer. "I would be terrified handing this power to anyone," Cassandra replied. "But I believe it is the only way." She gestured to Leliana and the sword the spymaster was holding. "They'll follow you. To them, being an elf shows how far you've risen, how it must have been by Andraste's hand. To us, being sent here from another realm shows that you have a purpose in this land. What it means to you, how you lead us: that is for you alone to determine."

Something flickered in Cassandra, something that I often brushed off as a trick of the light or me being overtly-observant. But in that particular moment, I caught...I caught a glimpse of her Faith. 

_How was that possible?_

The question was filed in my brain and stored away for later review. I had to solely focus on what was currently taking place and come to terms with what was being presented before me. Ever since I sealed the Breach and escaped the destruction of Haven alive, I knew at some point I would take up the position of being a leader to the Inquisition.

I just never thought that it would be given to me like  _this._ In a public setting, where there was a visible transition and acceptance of power. 

The sword was lifted from Leliana's palms as I took its hilt and brought it into a vertical position. Honor swelled in my chest--so much that for a few moments I couldn't breathe, couldn't  _comprehend_ that this was actually happening. 

I looked to Cassandra. Cassandra Pentaghast, the Right Hand who gave the Inquisition life. My role would have been meaningless had she not acted. "I am not "Chosen,"" I said loudly enough for her and Leliana to hear. Blood thundered in my ears and my legs were shaky, but my voice remained unwavering. "I  _have_ chosen, and I will lead us to victory."

While Cassandra didn't exactly smile, exaltation shone in her countenance. "Wherever you lead us," she stated proudly before moving to the edge of the landing to address the multitude. "Have our people been told?" she questioned, her voice booming over the low buzz.

"They have," Josephine called back. It was the loudest I had ever heard her speak. "And soon, the world."

"Commander,  _will they follow?"_

Cullen rallied the crowd even more. "Inquisition!  _Will you follow?"_

Roars of the faithful, of the fallen, of the fearful, of the fierce, was the response. 

_"Will you fight?"_

The second cry was even more deafening. 

_"Will we triumph?"_

We should have been heard from the Winter Palace at Halamshiral to the shores of the Amaranthine Ocean. We  _would_ be heard. 

"Your leader! Your Herald! Your  _Inquisitor!"_

I thrust the sword in my hand to the sky.

I was ready. We were ready. 

And we would win.

-

The main hall of Skyhold was in the most disrepair. Furniture had been piled up against the walls and then rotted into a massive heap. Missing window panes from the end of the hall directed a breeze, and bird excrement littered the floor.

"I think we can work with this," I declared to nobody in particular as I scraped a rather large piece of bird poo off my boot with some of the wood nearby.

"So this is where it begins," Cullen stated as he craned his head to look around the grand room. 

"It began in the courtyard," Leliana calmly corrected. "This is where we turn that promise into action."

"But what do we do?" Josephine asked. "We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark."

"He wanted me earlier, at Vimmark as well," I added as I recalled the distant experience. "But that was for a different reason entirely. And even now..." Shit. To reveal more of what I knew would be to put myself in jeopardy of exposing the part of myself I  _didn't_ want everybody finding out about, yet. The part where I had known about everything that would come to pass but did nothing to prevent it. "Well, I know more about Corypheus than the average person, but not as much as I should." I then directly addressed Josephine. "However, we are safer here than in Haven. Skyhold would be able to withstand an assault from Corypheus."  _It still stood after greater battles._

"And after what you did with one trebuchet," Cullen said to me, "I'd bet against a direct attack."

"We do have another advantage, as well." Leliana's voice drifted into the conversation like a shark's fin surfacing above the water. "We know what Corypheus intends to do  _next._ In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated."

She saw the way my face grimly hardened at the mention of Orlais' ruler. "Imagine the chaos her death would cause," Josephine went on, unaware of the small piece of information I exposed. "With his army..."

"An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us," Cullen added as he rubbed the stubble on his jawline.

"Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god."

Leliana let out a low sigh. "I'd feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with. Alaran, write up a report on--"

"That might not be necessary, spymaster," somebody interrupted. We had been so absorbed in our conversation none of us realized that Varric Tethras had slunk in to make an appearance. 

We turned to look at him--I immediately noticed that he was avoiding eye contact with me. "I know somebody who can help with your dilemma." He laughed awkwardly as he came to a stop a few feet outside of the circle we had formed. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I--I sent a  _message_ to an old friend."

My heart dropped to the floor the same time my stomach was pierced with the sharpened sense of betrayal. I felt the advisers' eyes all land on me. "He's...he's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he's doing," Varric continued, looking at everybody else but me. "He...he can help."

"When is he coming?" I questioned just above a whisper. When Varric was reluctant to answer, I stepped forward and went toe-to-toe with the dwarf.  _"When."_

"Three days from now, most likely," Varric replied as he looked down at our boots. "Al, you gotta know--"

"I don't want to hear it." Rarely had I ever heard such vitriol in my voice, and never had it been directed at Varric. "You inform your  _friend--_ seeing as it has only been you two and ever you two, apparently--that he had better be careful. Because you have been lying to--"  _To me,_ "to us about where he has been. Some might not take that revelation kindly."

While things hadn't been the greatest between Varric and me as of late, they were still more than manageable. But looking down at him and realizing just how  _stupid_ I had been in thinking that he had been completely honest with me this whole time made every repair crack and shatter like ice.

Varric eventually brought his guilt-ridden eyes up to me. There could have been a slight mist to them. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Alaran."

 _He was my friend too!_ I wanted to scream until my throat was raw.  _He was my family!_

"Yeah, well," I spoke evenly instead, "I guess I forgot who taught me how to excel at lying. The fault is mine."

My words hurt me as much as they did Varric. The way his whole body seemed to crumple inward made me want to react on the instinct of flight, but was too rooted in anger and treachery to submit. I turned away, unable to look at him any longer. "I have work to do." My voice was cold, cold, cold. "If you have any information to give on the whereabouts of  _your friend,_ inform Ambassador Montilyet or Sister Leliana. Until then, make yourself useful somewhere."

The advisers looked as if they would rather be facing a horde of darkspawn than being addressed by me in that moment. I wasn't sure what I said to them in the following minutes--or their responses--but I was finally brought back by Leliana's direct question. Maybe she had repeated herself, but the world seemed to reform when I tore my gaze away from the window panes that refracted sunlight into the hall.

"Sorry, what?" I said as I struggled to focus my attention on the present situation. 

"Are you alright?" 

All three of them were looking at me with genuine concern. How long had I been standing there in silence? God, I must have looked more like a wreck than I intended. Or maybe I didn't look like a wreck at all and they just knew I was in distress because of what they had witnessed not long ago.

"No," I bluntly stated. "But that will not hinder me. Nor should you worry about it. Just..." A flash of unwanted emotions rose up in the back of my throat, making my voice waver for a second. "Make sure that when Cassandra finds out, she won't have the both of them killed."

-

I was given the grandest chamber after the second day in Skyhold, complete with a large bed, an ornate desk, a dresser, a couch, and a bookshelf. The room was still vastly bare, but it was a start. It even had a working water closet. Yet again, Josephine was the one to thank for all of this. I wasn't sure I was ready to have accommodations  _fit_ for the Inquisitor, but...here we were. Bubs, however, was extremely happy that he had finally been given a room worthy of his presence. So happy that I had him go out and run around with the Chargers to release some energy. Maybe Dalish would even take it upon herself to bathe him.

Out of everything, I believed that I enjoyed the balcony the most. It overlooked the Frostback Mountains, the running river below, and the endless sky. I sat on the railing, imagining a crystal clear view though in reality all I saw were smudges. Unfortunately, the desk I had been gifted with wasn't merely for show; a neat stack of paperwork already sat atop it, waiting for me to review, approve, deny, or amend them. One of the first  _personal_ orders of business was to contact Bodahn Feddic and have him send my belongings to Skyhold--as well as an informal letter offering him and Sandal a place to stay, should they want to. 

It was difficult trying to write to them and not think about whose house they continued to live in. I couldn't stem the flood of memories that rushed into my mind: eating late-night snacks with him, sharing oft-hidden secrets, feeling  _secure--_

After setting down the quill I pressed my hands to my blind eyes and groaned softly. Was I overreacting? Was Varric in more of the right than I thought he was? What had I done to be distrusted?

 What was I going to do?

_What was I going to do?_

"Hey, Little Lamb."

I jerked my head up to see a towering immortal standing on the other side of the desk. In any other situation I would have jolted upright, demanded to know what the  _fuck_ was her problem, and maybe thrown an all-around bitch fit. 

But because I was so completely and utterly drained, I only regarded Hallah Lynne with sunken eyes and a frown. "What do you want?" I simply asked, fingers twitching as they failed to wave in the air. "If it's to congratulate me, just...send me a postcard and an edible arrangement."

Emerald eyes softened even more so. "I'm more of a personal gift-giver," Hallah said as she placed a little rectangular box in front of me. When I didn't move, she sighed and popped back the lid to reveal what was inside. "You're probably going to need them, with fighting and leading and all that."

Out of all the things Hallah Lynne could have gotten me, she...actually presented me with something that I truly wanted. Huh. Who knew.

I picked up the wire-rimmed, circular spectacles and unfolded them. "I would have given you a pair like the ones you had back on Earth," Hallah continued as I stared at the new belonging in wonder, "but you needed a pair that could encompass your big elfy eyes. Also, circle-shaped glasses look good with your facial structure." The Traveler was smiling, now; one that accentuated her rather wide mouth and the sense of humanity. "Go on, try 'em out. I know you wanna."

With an ounce of hesitation, I put on the glasses and beheld the world as it should be. Everything sharpened and straightened. I could now see behind Hallah Lynne--and all the way to the opposite end of my room. 

"Holy shit," I whispered with an awed grin, "I'm  _really_ blind, aren't I?"

Hallah chuckled. "Yeah, you are. And it could have been totally avoided, too."

"Oh shut up," I said back, but it was also with a laugh. I pushed the spectacles up the bridge of my nose, already familiar with the motion. "Thank you, Hallah."

"You're welcome, Little Lamb." She then perched herself on my desk. "So how're you holding up?"

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed the bottom of my chin. "I feel like it's a waste of time to ask questions you already know the answer to."

Hallah shrugged her lithe shoulders too fluidly for a human. "I'm immortal; time-wasting is rather a specialty of mine. Even before I donned the ever-lasting mantle of looking this good forever."

My head tilted curiously. "Wait, you weren't always immortal?"

She threw her head back and barked a laugh. "Ha! No! Oh, boy, those were the good ol' days."

"So where did you even--"

"Ah-ah-ah," Hallah interrupted as she wagged a long, olive-toned finger back-and-forth. "Right now I'm just the annoying omnipotent who everybody dislikes because she helps them in unhelpful ways. My origin story is a  _long, long_ way down the road, filled with twists and turns every Mary Sue dreams about having." Her infuriating, crooked smirk faded a touch. "I'm pretty crappy when it comes to being consistent in mortal perspective, if you haven't noticed. Combined with the Sight I have and the distaste I know a lot have for my style of action, I'm not always there when people want me to be. But, ah, if you ever need somebody to talk to, I'll be here."

Hallah's honest confession, sincere offer made me speechless for a few moments. She smirked again and patted my head. "No worries, Little Lamb. No worries."

"Why do you always call me that?" I had to ask. 

 _"Pfft._ Because you have white hair and you're pale as fuck. Why else?"

I laughed and pushed her hand off my scalp. "You're a shit-head, Hallah."

"I know," she said proudly and slid off the desk. "Oh, I know."

"Hey, before you go," I put in, standing up to speak to Hallah. Well, more like  _crane my neck_ to speak up to her. "Would you mind listening to a proposition I have? I mean, you already know what I'm going to say to you probably, so I'll get it out quick.

"A lot of people in the Inquisition are thoroughly traumatized by what just took place. Before that, even. My allies, my soldiers, my  _people_ need support in places that Thedas cannot yet provide. I'd do it myself, but even I'm not super qualified. But I'm sure you have the appropriate requirements, seeing as you're old as dirt and all-knowing. So, Hallah Lynne, would you like to be the Inquisition's designated psychologist?"

The proposition brought an unexpected glow to Hallah Lynne's expression. She stood up straighter and swept a hand through her Mohawk, which was looking more disarrayed and wavy than usual. "It would be an honor, Alaran. Can I run on my own schedule?"

"As long as you're able to do what needs to be done, then yes."

Hallah's eyebrow quirked upwards. "You do realize that this means I'm going to be around Skyhold. There could be meddling."

"There already is meddling. And you'll get to practice your consistency."

"Solas won't like it. Or Leliana. Or Cullen. Or a lot of others. Did I mention Solas?  _He_ isn't quite over what happened a few years back."

"You mean, like, a million years ago?"

"Well when you put it that way you make us sound ancient."

"And are you?"

Hallah's laugh was low and throaty. "Yeah, we are."

"So you'll do it?"

"Of course! I love helping people. It's what I live for." Hallah cast her eyes to the window, emerald eyes becoming faraway. "It's what I have to live for." When her gaze turned back to me, I knew I wasn't looking at somebody remotely human. While there was undoubtedly something  _missing,_ another greater presence took its place. "Just remember that."

Then she vanished.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think it's getting better between Al and Varric...haha! You thought. (I'm secretly crying inside)
> 
> On the upside, Alaran finally has glasses for her blind ass.
> 
> On the maybe-up-or-maybe-downside, Hallah Lynne has been invited into the Inquisition.
> 
> And on the angsty side, Hawke is coming.
> 
> But hey! I hope all of you guys are staying as lovely as ever.


	42. The Hawke Has Landed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al has a hard time handling her emotions when she sees people that she hasn't seen in years, alright? It's a distinct pattern.

I was conversing with Vivienne when a scout jogged up to me. The moment he came into my line of vision my stomach clenched queasily. I was playing the waiting game with Hawke's arrival, so anytime a messenger came my way I expected the news I had been dreading.

But much to my relief, the scout instead spoke, "Commander Cullen wanted me to inform you that the mercenary band you sent for is here."

Vivienne's interest was piqued at the news she had overheard. As I nodded and sent the scout off, she inquired, "What mercenaries, my dear? I assumed that the Bull's Chargers was enough for the Inquisition."

"I merely reached out to past friends and allies," I responded as I started walking down to the make-shift training yard. Vivienne glided beside me, her heels seemingly unaffected by the mushy spring ground. "Mercenaries included."

"And what, exactly, were you doing parading around with mercenaries?" 

"I needed to get from Tantervale to Serault one time," I answered. "But even I'm not foolhardy enough to try and travel all the way to the other side of Thedas with just Bubs at my side. I knew a guy back in Kirkwall who was running with a wholesome-enough sellsword company and asked him where they were off to. When he said they were going to make their way to Sahrnia to pick up a shipment of weapons and do a few other jobs along the way, I offered my assistance if I was able to travel with them." An amused grimace passed across my face. "And that's how I spent the next ten months traveling with the Valo-Kas. Great bunch of people, by the way."

"You can imagine that I have more questions than answers," Vivienne chided right before sharply  _tsking_ Bubba as he tried splashing mud onto her vestments. The Mabari paused and looked down dejectedly.

"You'll get her next time, Bubberston," I encouraged gently as I gave the dirty hound a pat on the head. Nobody wanted to bathe him, for some reason.

"Don't enable him, Inquisitor," the enchantress sighed. "Back to the topic at hand: why were you traveling to Serault in the first place? And why did your journey take as long as ten months?"

"I needed special vials crafted that wouldn't break even if they were stepped on by an ogre," I replied truthfully."And...I also just wanted to see more of Thedas. But, if you know how it is dealing with the Glassmasters of Serault, it's difficult even with copious connections. Now imagine  _me--_ an elf with Dalish tattoos and minimal connections--trying to get through to them."

"Hmm. Yes. How did that work out when you finally got there?"

"Oh, I got what I wanted of course. Still use the vials today. And aside from the fact that I was nearly killed by whatever resides in the Applewood and some fanatics, I made quite a few good acquaintances. I believe that they'll be helpful to the Inquisition."

"And the ten month's delay?"

I chuckled dryly. "That was my fault; I should have known that their quote-on-quote "side jobs" were full-on contracts. So yeah, that was how I became a mercenary for a while. I rejoined them two years later for another period of time, as well. But  _that's_ an entirely different shitstorm of a story."

"You will have to tell us more of your endeavors sometime," Vivienne suggested as we entered the soldier's section of Skyhold. "Oh, and I should mention that your spectacles look absolutely delightful. It was about time you did something for your terrible eyesight."

"Why thank you. I got them--" 

My sentence ended abruptly when I saw a dozen of familiar friends casually standing around an otherwise anxious yard. Vivienne made a noise in the back of her throat when she saw just why they were making the soldiers antsy--and who I was making a beeline for.

"Saam!" I called, raising a hand in salutation. "Shokrakar! Karaas!"

Twelve horned heads turned to me. Karaas was the one to immediately beam and stride forward. "Alaran! Sweet Maker, it's been too long!"

I lifted my arms up in time for the giant Vashoth to pick me up by my waist and toss me in the air. I screamed gleefully and almost lost my glasses, but was fortunately caught a second later. Laughter coursed through my very veins as I was spun around a few times before being planted back onto my feet. I was still giggling madly as I tried to regain my balance. "Don't fucking kill her, asshead," Shokrakar said to her twin brother as she wrapped a hand around the back of my neck to steady me. "She's the Queen of the Hairy Eyeball or something like that."

"Hairy-- _hairy eyeball?"_ I repeated incredulously. I looked up at the giant woman in bewilderment. "Is that what you've been calling the Inquisition this whole time?"

"If you don't like it," she growled--but she always growled, so it was okay-- "You can get a better symbol." Burning orange eyes bore down on me, just  _daring_ for a smart-ass remark.

"Man, I've missed you guys," I breathed happily, and then turned inward to give Shokrakar a hug. She roughly patted my head, which only pushed my face and glasses further into shredded abs. 

"We..." she began reluctantly, but only wound up coughing suddenly.

"I'm sorry my sister is a little underdeveloped when it comes to showing affection," Karaas apologized as Shokrakar and I let go of each other. "It's strange, because Mother and Father really did give us a lot of love growing up. You even met them, Alaran!"

"Yes, your parents were very nice, Karaas," I chuckled as I remembered the loving and lovable Adaar family. The twins got their dark skin and white hair from their mother, and their prominent noses and matching eyes from their father. But while Shok's horns were ridged and resembled a gazelle's, Karaas' horns moved at a more horizontal angle before smoothly curving upwards. Their polar opposite personalities, though...yeah, wherever they inherited that was a mystery.

My eyes then landed on the solemn Tal-Vashoth regarding me expressionlessly. I gave a respectful, smiling nod. "Saam," I greeted.

 _"Venak hol,"_ he nodded back. My smile turned into a smirk. Though the phrase was something of an insult in Qunlat, it had become a term of endearment and camaraderie between the two of us. I firmly clasped arms with him. I would always be grateful for Saam; he was the one who assisted Aveline in getting me out of Kirkwall in the middle of the night when the templars were on my heels. He also provided me with information about villages and alienages that needed the help I could give when he had the opportunity. The dude said that he could care less about the well-being of others, but there was a reason he had left the Qun--and remained on the honorable path.

"I'm glad to see your cheerful face again," I said as I let my arm drop. "All of your faces, in fact. Holy poop, Taarlok, what happened to your horn?"

"Got into a tussle with a dragonling," the bronze-skinned Tal-Vashoth grinned as he took a bold stance and crossed his arms. One of his thumbs jerked behind him to Kaariss. "That nug-a-lope was going to get killed otherwise."

"Bullshit," Kaariss snapped as he came forward to clap me on the shoulder. The only reason why I wasn't thrown into the mud was because I had prepared myself for it by clenching my entire body. "Taarlok's always looking for ways to have a more rugged appearance; he nearly begged me to break off a horn before the dragonling did. Anyways, it's good to see ya again. When we got word that you were the Guildmaster of the Hairy-Ass--I mean, the Inquisition--thought I'd whip you up a little something." 

There were numerous groans and sighs as Kaariss pulled out a small, leather-bound book complete with vellum pages. "He wouldn't shut up about it," Katoh, the rather small and pale-skinned Vashoth, said as she held Bubberston like a baby against her chest. "I wanted Shok to disembowel him, but apparently he's still important to the Kith or something."

"Geniuses are always underappreciated in their time," I consoled Kaariss as I patted him on the arm. He sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear. 

"You always know the right thing to say, Alaran." 

I took the book from Kaariss and tucked it under my arm. "Your little alpaca-haired commander is coming," Taarlok announced as he looked to the right. 

"Alpaca-haired...?" I began with a confused, scrunched-up face. "Seriously, what is it with you guys and having the  _worst_ names for everything?"

"Sh, sh, here he comes," Karaas hissed. As the majority of the Valo-Kas fell awkwardly silent, I shot a hand up and waved it back and forth so Cullen could see where I was amidst the giants. 

"Ah, Herald," Cullen said when he found me. He stiffly moved through the mercenary band, hand subconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword. "There you are."

"Your commander seemed surprised that we're of the Qunari race," Shokrakar said exclusively to me, even though Cullen was already standing next to us. "Why is that?"

I adjusted my glasses. "Uh, maybe that's because I didn't tell him that all of you are of the Qunari race. It wasn't really a top priority."

"His sputtering was  _really_ funny," Karaas couldn't help but giggle as he partially covered his sharp-toothed grin with a dark gray hand. It made Shokrakar roll her orange eyes. She then addressed Cullen directly about their living arrangements, their place among the rest of the soldiers, and what the Kith could accomplish given the right contract, equipment, and information. I was tuned in for the first half, but ultimately wound up being distracted by Karaas and Katoh and Bubberston. They didn't really need my input anyways; Shokrakar and Taarlok pretty much ran the show for the Valo-Kas, and Cullen knew what to do for them better than I did. I was also glad they only excluded Cullen for the first few seconds of our impromptu meeting. They ignored me for half the day when I first joined on, much to my frustration at the time. Their power-dynamic strategy was a well-oiled machine; it made sure that everybody knew their place amidst the Valo-Kas. But apparently they liked the alpaca-haired commander enough to speak to him personally. Alpaca-haired...not entirely accurate, but definitely one worth saving for later.

Much to my annoyance and trepidation, Vivienne intercepted Shokrakar right after Cullen left and before I could reach her. The enchantress  _did_ have a better upper hand than the rest of us did; she was a beautiful, cunning woman that wielded sex appeal as brilliantly as her staff. And Shok had a slight weakness when it came to women who she knew were dangerous.

"Uh oh," Karaas murmured as we both paused to watch the interaction between the two women. "Shok's got her hip cocked. Ugh, just look at the way she's leaning in. I can't even see her face and I know what her expression is. It's the _Oh, Yeah? You Think I Care About What You're Saying?_ one. You know what I'm talking about." 

"Yeah, well, Viv is probably asking her all about her apostate endeavors," I replied. "And she'll be on your scent, too."

"Doesn't sound like such a bad thing."

"She was the Grand Enchantress of the Imperial Court, ya know."

"I take it that that's important?"

"She was basically in charge of one of the most powerful Mage Circles before the war. And she's going to want to know all about Qunari-inherited magic. Quite a few people here will."

Karaas shrugged his shoulders up and down carelessly, but eyes the same color of Shokrakar betrayed an analytical mind at work. "The Inquisition protects mages, right?" It was almost strange, hearing such a serious question coming from a voice as light as his.

"Yes."

"Even from other mages?"

"Yes."

"Good." 

A puff of magic then blasted my face, leaving my glasses fogged over. Karaas childishly snorted despite the fact that I was otherwise completely unaffected. "Ah, that never gets old."

"Literally nothing happens," I deadpanned as I took off my glasses to clear them. "Nothing. You know this, particularly because you  _threw a fireball at me_ that one time and all it did was singe my tunic."

"That's the beauty of it, Alaran. That's the beauty of it."

-

"I could not find you in the Fade last night," Solas commented as I stopped to look at a mural he had already outlined on my way up to evaluate the library. I didn't  _need_ to see it in person, but...there was somebody who I liked running into on the journey there. That, and I was running myself at the fastest speed I could go in order to stay distracted.

"Yeah..." I muttered absently as I took in the beautiful style and story of the mural. "I didn't sleep well enough last night to get there." I turned halfway to Solas. "Hey, are you going to do this to the entire rotunda?" A finger pointed at the outline. 

"That is my plan, yes," Solas responded, coming to my side and tilting his head upwards to regard his unfinished work. "There were other panes on here long ago, but I believe that it's appropriate to fill them with a new tale." I gave him a side-long glance and found myself softly smiling. When he gave me a glance of his own and saw that I was already looking at him, the tips of his ears turned a slow shade of pink.

"The Inquisition's tale, I presume?" I prompted.

"No, actually," Solas replied evenly as he turned his gaze forward again. "I've elected to paint the entire content of  _Hard in Hightown."_

I threw my head back and loudly laughed. After I caught my breath, I excitedly pointed to an empty wall and proclaimed, "Can this one be where Aveline and Donnic have their first conversation in the book? Wait--I mean,  _Brennokovic_ and  _Captain Hendallen._ I could give some input on their physical features because, like, I know who their characters were based off of!" In my excitement, I began to recite one of the beginning paragraphs of the fourth chapter.  _"J_ _ust barely dawn, and already Captain Hendallen was buried behind a mountain of paperwork taller than the Vimmarks. All Donnen could see of the captain was her fiery hair and an angry gaze that had stopped more than one pickpocket mid-grift."_ I came out of the memory-flash and shuddered. "Ugh, I remember that look. Always got one whenever I was being too much of a little shit. I mean, it didn't really stop me, but it gave me reason to pause."

"Of course," Solas agreed with the upward quirk of his lips. But when his head tilted to the left, I knew that a question more of the serious sort was coming. "What was the reason behind your difficulty sleeping?"

My smirk receded and I breathed out a short sigh. "Just take a guess. I'm sure everybody knows by now."

"Yes," he said carefully, "but that does not excuse a lack of concern."

I went back to regarding the unfinished mural. "He's going to be here any moment," I said with a practiced calm. "And anger is...not a specialty of mine. But I'm angry at both him and Varric--I have been for the past three days. I do detest having absolutely no idea what I'm going to say to him when we meet again, also. I'm torn between forgiving the two of them right on the spot and acting as if nothing happened and completely tearing them a new asshole."

"Why not settle somewhere in the middle?"

I briefly paused before saying in the same tone of voice, "Because that's where all the pain lies."

There was a flash of royal golds and blues in the corner of my eye. A bitter, metallic taste filled my mouth and a tremor coursed through my knees. "Inquisitor?" Josephine called with forced lightness. Her quill tapped nervously against the clipboard she held. "A moment of your time, please?"

Solas reached out and gently clasped my arm, offering a comforting silence over empty words. I thanked him with a small, single nod and departed. 

Looked like I wouldn't reach the library today, after all.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Inquisitor," Josephine said as I sharply regarded her through circular spectacles. She seemed slightly intimidated by my approach: her quill only tapped more sharply on the board and she bit her bottom lip before addressing me again. "The Champion," she said lowly, "he is here. On the battlements."

I felt my ears betray me and flatten against my skull. From the way Josephine was resisting the urge to outwardly cringe, I knew I must have looked all manners of stone-cold pissed. 

But, I reminded myself, I shouldn't kill the messenger. Especially the one who could destroy the Inquisition from the inside-out with the fluff of a quill and a kiss on the cheek. 

"Thank you, Ambassador Montilyet," I said, trying to force some emotion into my expression. It only made Josephine's eyes shimmer with concern.  

"Alaran, I--"

"Nothing needs to be said, Josephine," I put in before she could speak further. I stilled her tapping hand as I passed.  _Nothing could be said. Nothing that could uplift me in this moment. Nothing that could prepare me._

The world was muted as I exited the main hall and walked down the stairs. There was a cool spring wind that slipped under my jacket and through my scarf, but somberly left when I wasn't able to acknowledge its presence. I pressed onward, finding my legs growing heavier with each step I climbed to the section of the battlements that hadn't yet been assigned a patrol due to its more dilapidated state. Construction was beginning for it tomorrow, at exactly half-past seven in the morning. I scaled it purely on a hunch, but it proved correct as I saw two familiar figures standing on a secluded landing that was being used to stack crates and barrels filled with repairment essentials.

I reminded myself to continue breathing even as my heart was racing at unhealthy speeds. My footsteps slowed for a moment, nearly paused, then continued at a normal pace as I descended down the stairs that led to the landing. 

Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, turned to face me as I reached the last step. 

For a few moments not a single movement was made. I took in his battered and worn armor, his black hair pulled into a low ponytail, a scruff that hadn't been shaved in a week, eyes that were more golden than hazel today, and an overall  _age_ that had befallen him. I knew he was doing the same to me. Seeing what had changed.

Meanwhile, Varric was trying to keep himself from chugging the entirety of a wine bottle. Or was it whiskey? Either way, he was nearly facing a completely opposite direction. 

Finally the tension was too much to bear. "I thought you were dead," I whispered, unable to pinpoint the emotion that came with the statement. There was a minuscule shrug of my shoulders.  "We all thought you were dead."

"I took a page out of your book," Hawke tried to smile, though it ended up just being a purse of the lips. The sound of his voice made me take a small step back. 

"Don't make this a joke," I steely said. "You left  _none_ of us with a hint of where you were going." A sharp, bitter laugh scraped against my throat. "Well, except for one."

Varric took another swig out of his bottle as he continued to stare out over the battlements. 

"Do you think I wanted to do it? To leave all of you behind without so much as a goodbye?" Hawke quietly demanded. "It was safer for everyone if I wasn't with them. Safer for  _you."_

It was a struggle to keep the rage in check. "Safety? _Safety?"_ I lost my caution and closed the space between Garrett and me. He held his ground, giving me a hard and cold stare I had never been the recipient of. "Kirkwall was one of the first of many cities that I've had to flee from because I lacked that. You didn't care about any of us--you just wanted to run from your problems."

The words burned my throat as they came out. But when I saw Hawke's guard cracked, I couldn't help but feel a sick sense of pleasure. I wanted to hurt him because  _I_ was hurting. For five years I had worried, searched, missed,  _prayed_ for Garrett--and now all the suppressed, consequential emotions were clawing their way out of me. I didn't know how to channel them.

I wanted to lose control.

"Run away from my problems?" Hawke repeated as his own frustrated anger seeped into his voice. "Think about what you're saying, Alaran. Think carefully."

 _"Why_ would you not want any help from us?" My voice was rising, now. I couldn't help but notice the strange sensation of one growing louder. I didn't yell. Not in this sense. "We could have been there for you! W-what was it?"

The air began to permeate with Hawke's distinct magical aura. "Alaran, our story together was  _over_  after the Gallows.Kirkwall was my responsibility, and Kirkwall  _fell!_ Everything around me has fallen to pieces, and I wasn't going to have you or anybody else pity me for my hardships and ultimate failures. And if you can recount--because your memory is oh so _brilliant--_ I've proven time and time again that anybody who is near me long enough winds up getting hurt or killed."

"Bullshit!" I fumed. "Don't use your own fears as an excuse to cut  _everybody_ out of your life! And even if you wanted to keep us at a distance, you could have fucking said something about it! Garrett, you are  _loved!_ Why did you want to push that away?"

"You just--you just don't understand, do you? You think you do, but you don't!" Hawke lowered his voice to a near-growl. "So stop being a belligerent, close-minded asshole and _be quiet_ for once in your life."

Varric sucked in a breath through his teeth.

And that was when I let go of all reservations.

With shaking hands, I slowly took off my glasses and set them on a nearby crate. 

Then I attacked Hawke.

He saw it coming and grunted as I slammed against his armor. I dodged the obnoxious, jutting breastplate and screamed as I wrangled out of Hawke's grasp. "I could--have been--there for you!" I yelled as we grappled. While he was on defense, I put everything I had into finding a way to take him down. 

"No--you couldn't--!" Hawke cried out angrily as I managed to get both arms around his waist. In one twist I lifted him of his feet and threw the both of us to the ground. My head clanged against the breastplate, cutting the skin on my forehead open. I ignored the searing pain and continued to pin Garrett flat on his back, shoving a knee into his groin unashamedly. As he groaned and let his grip lessen, I sat up and raised a fist to bring down on his face. 

And Garrett looked at me like he knew he deserved it. Like he wanted to be hurt even more. Like he had been damaged enough that what more could a punch from a beloved friend do that he hasn't done to himself already.

I had lost control.

In that, I also gave up my ability to discern that Hawke was very, very broken.

A sudden sob wracked through me. Because my emotions were unbridled, I couldn't keep back everything else that came afterwards. "You fucker," I wept breathlessly. My fist dropped lifelessly to my side. A hot trail of blood had now tracked down my left temple, continued past my cheek, and was beginning to tickle my jaw as it curled underneath. "You...you never failed. Not to me. Not to your family."

Seeing me cry stunned Hawke more than a punch ever could. Still straddling his waist, I slouched and pressed my palms against my eyes in an attempt to stem the tears, like I usually did whenever I happened to be doing the thing I hated most.

"Don't...don't cry, Al," Hawke quietly pleaded as he started to verge on tears himself. "I'm sorry."

"I am too," I managed to get out between ugly sobs. When I felt Hawke's stomach hiccup, I clambered off and sloppily wiped away the wetness tracking down my cheeks, feeling blood smear across one side of my face and mix with the saltwater. 

"Oh, Maker, your head," Hawke moaned despairingly, voice thicker and scratchier. A familiar touch cupped my jaw and uncovered the hands that were hiding my eyes. Magic tried to weave together the broken skin on my forehead, but it merely slid away like water on stone. "I'm so sorry...I-I've hurt you--I always hurt--" He couldn't continue with his statement and bowed his head to weep. With shoulders shaking and breath ragged, we both let out everything that we had stored away for far too long. It didn't fix things, exactly, but it remedied the present pain.

I slumped against the low wall of the battlements as the last of my shameful tears dried with blood and bits of white hair caught in its destructive path. As Hawke joined me and angled himself so his head was buried into my shoulder, I eventually looked to Varric. During some point of the Champion's and the Inquisitor's breakdowns, he had grabbed my glasses and had them ready for when I needed them again. I gave the smallest of smiles and beckoned him to join my side with a slight movement of my hand. After a brief hesitation, the rogue moved from his distant position to sit down next to me. Wordlessly, Varric unfolded the spectacles and positioned them lopsidedly on the bridge of my nose. I was too exhausted to move them, so I let it be. 

"I don't want to be mad, anymore," I whispered as I stared off into space. "But...man, this sucks ass."

"Yeah," Varric agreed quietly. I glanced down and regarded the bottle of alcohol in his other hand. A faint flicker of temptation ignited in me. There was a reason people drank, after all. Maybe now would be a good time to--

The crystal-clear image of my father's pale blue eyes flashed in my mind. The urge fled as quickly as it came.

So the three of us sat there, beaten-down and tired of all that we had put each other through. It...could have been better by far, but it could have been a lot worse. 

Not knowing what else to do, I covered both of their hands with my own and spoke the first things that came to mind. "A family is a family," I muttered. "And love is love. We'll...we'll be fine." 

Varric put his head on my other shoulder. I kissed the top of both his and Hawke's head, then rested my own against the stone behind me. The sky had gone from blue to shades of pale pinks and golds. 

"We'll be fine," I repeated so softly I barely even heard myself. "We'll be fine."

Because at the end of the day--through all the heartache we suffered, the guilt we felt, the mistakes we made, and the hurt we caused--we couldn't and  _wouldn't_ give up on each other. 

The nation had the Inquisition. And the Inquisitor had these sorry sods.

I glanced down at the two on either side of me. They wouldn't see the forgiveness beginning to soften the edges of my face, or the way my lips couldn't decide whether to frown or smile. They had taken care of me even when I failed them; now it was up to me to do the same.

Eventually, though, my Inquisition duties had to take precedence. Shifting my position so Hawke lifted his head, I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and turned my gaze so I could look him square in the gold-and-green-and-brown kaleidoscope that were his eyes. "Alright," I said simply, "tell me what you got."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al seeing Hawke again could have gone a million different ways. And it's still not going to be peaches and cream, just fyi. A family is a family, which means family drama is on a whole other level of drama. 
> 
> But on the brighter side, the Valo-Kas have arrived in Skyhold. I've honestly been so excited to introduce them, and I can't wait to incorporate more of their storylines and Al's adventures with them into future chapters.
> 
> And on the personal side, I only have a little bit longer before I go back home to America. It's crazy that just a few chapters ago I was talking about leaving and what my first few weeks have been like.
> 
> Stay lovely! <3


	43. Patched Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al has a long chapter.

It was Cullen that first saw us when we finally made our way from the emotional blast site. He paled a bit when he took in my bloody visage, but I reassured him by giving a small nod to acknowledge that I was fine.  "Commander," I greeted simply.

"Inquisitor," he replied easily, but his amber eyes wandered over to the scruffy mage standing beside me.

"It's been a while, Knight-Captain," Hawke said with the slight tilt of his head. Cullen imperceptibly stiffened in the encroaching twilight. 

"I do not go by that title anymore," the commander corrected lowly. His hand had gone to the hilt of his sword--he always did that whenever he was trying to keep anxiety or anger away. Maybe in this circumstance it was both. 

"Ah, right. My apologies. I forgot you used to consider mages...oh, what was it? Not human?"

"Garrett," I said seriously. "Please. Not tonight."

There was a brief silence as Hawke gathered himself. "Sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I'm just...raw."

"We all are," I muttered as I scratched flakes of blood off the side of my face. "Cullen, could you schedule a War Room meeting for tomorrow morning?"

"Of course. What time?"

"Eight sounds fine."

"Do I have to be there?" Garrett complained. "I've been travelling--"

"Yes, now quit being a whiny loser baby."

Hawke made a noise like he was about to argue before grumbling and falling silent.

"You had better get him and Varric somewhere out-of-sight," Cullen added. "Cassandra found out about Hawke's arrival. She removed the heads of every training dummy that Skyhold had." In a drier voice he said, "We had to commandeer the requisition office to make more."

I sighed and rubbed my brow. "You might need to commandeer them again to reattach my own head after I talk with her."

Cullen's mouth twitched in a smirk. After a pause he went on to say, "This may not be the best of times, but I have some reports for you. They're mainly summaries of the comings and goings that have occurred at Skyhold within these past few days. But if you're too busy, I can always have them delivered to you tomorrow."

"Eh, give them to me now. I'm here anyways." I motioned for Varric and Hawke to follow the two of us. "Come on. After this I'll find you a place to sleep, Hawke."

"Sounds good to me," the Champion said. He and Varric trailed a few feet behind as Cullen and I walked side-by-side on the way to his office, which was conveniently located just underneath his living quarters.

"Is everything alright?" my friend quietly asked me. I glanced into his concerned eyes.

"Yeah. Everything is fine."

"I'd believe you, if it weren't for the fact that you look like you just suffered an attack." In an even softer voice, Cullen prompted, "Did he...do anything to you?"

An ungracious scoff was my only reply. "Right, right," Cullen murmured, "I just wanted to be sure."

"Thank you."

I linked an arm with Cullen's own. During the day I wasn't able to show friendly affection with him or anybody else for fear of unnecessary rumors sprouting and growing in places where they weren't wanted. But as it was just the four of us on an otherwise empty battlement, I let myself have just a little comfort. 

He patted my hand with his own. "You've been through far worse, Alaran," Cullen reminded gently. "The unease will pass soon enough."

"I'm terrible at reunions, it seems," I mumbled tartly.

"You'll get better," he assured. "Don't take it so hard; nobody's perfect. And I've known you long enough that I can say that pertains to you as well." The last sentence was said with a teasing smugness.

"Watch it, Commander Rutherford," I shot back wryly, "your pay grade depends on how much you kiss my white ass."

His boyish snort gave me reason to smile.

When we reached the office Cullen went to retrieve the reports while Hawke, Varric, and I surveyed the room. The Champion was the first to crane his head up by the ladder that led to the room above. "Maker, is that a  _hole_ in the ceiling? And you sleep up there?"

"Yes," Cullen replied brusquely as he compiled papers for me. "Skyhold has more places that need repairing than that certain spot. I have little concern for it."

"But what about the birds?" Hawke questioned bluntly. "Don't they shit everywhere?"

Cullen looked to me, silently saying,  _Do something about him, will you?_

Instead I smirked and joined Garrett to observe Cullen's room from the angle we were at. Leaning against the ladder, I said, "He actually made a peace treaty with the birds; as long as they don't shit anywhere, they can have strands of his curly locks to build super-sturdy nests."

Hawke hummed deeply in agreement. "Yes, I understand. If I were a bird I'd want that for my nest as well. Especially since his hair-care has gotten  _much_ better since Kirkwall. Somebody finally told him that matting his curls down with gel and a comb was not the most tasteful."

"He was still cute to me," I shrugged before winking at the commander. He only rolled his eyes. That caused me to frown; was he beginning to grow a tolerance for my blush-inducing remarks?

"Now he's every Orlesian noblewoman's wet dream," Hawke smirked. Cullen made a strained, outraged noise and finally gave us the attention we wanted. 

"Maker's breath,  _here,"_ he fussed and held out the reports that I needed to go over. Chuckling, I took them from him and tucked the small stack under my arm. 

"Don't worry, Curly, we'll make sure to distribute the antics to everybody--not just you," Varric consoled. 

"Thank you, Cullen," I drawled as the three of us made our way back out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave an exasperated chuckle and waved goodbye. "Oh, Maker, he hasn't changed," Garrett sighed as I led him and Varric to Josephine's quarters so we could set up a living arrangement for the Champion. 

"He has," I found myself saying. "In a good way, though."

"That's...good, I suppose."

"Yeah," I said lightly. "It is. Hopefully you'll get to see that within these next few days that you're here. In the meantime, though, it'd probably be best to stay on the down-low. Cassandra will tear your nuts off, Vivienne will drive you insane, Cole will inadvertently cause you more emotional trauma even though he's trying to help, and Iron Bull will interrogate you without you even knowing it."

"Sounds like you've got an interesting group of friends," Hawke observed wryly.

"Yeah," I chuckled, "turns out I just attract the sort. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

-

The reports I had been given weren't out-of-the-ordinary. The Valo-Kas were settling in, the tavern was fully up-and-running despite its dilapidated exterior, all of the Inquisition's mounts had been transferred safely, blah blah blah...I just needed to sign off on all of them to acknowledge that I gave it the Inquisitor's approval. There was no whiff of Hallah Lynne's approach to her newly-appointed occupation, yet, which made me a little frustrated. Even though I said she could work on her own schedule, it would be nice to know  _when_ or  _where_ she arrived. Or maybe she really was doing her own thing and not telling me.

I sighed and set the last of the papers away. Worrying about what that dinky Traveler did wouldn't get me anywhere. 

Instead I slumped down to the stone floor and crawled on my hands and knees all the way to the biggest bed I've ever had in my life, making several snuffling noises as I did so. When I reached the middle of the left side of the bed, I put my head low to the floor so I could peer underneath. A medium-sized chest had been delivered to me this morning--which now felt like an eternity ago--from Kirkwall. Bodahn Feddic would be sending more things as time went by, but when he inquired just  _what_ I wanted sent to me first I told him to ship this. And since the Inquisition was a big deal all-of-a-sudden, the chest reached Skyhold within an insanely short amount of time. 

I pulled the chest out and propped myself against the bed so I could dig through the contents. This morning I didn't want to look at what was inside because my guts were already twisting in anticipation of Hawke's arrival, but I also knew that if I unlatched the locks that secured the chest and began taking a trip down memory lane I wouldn't be able to find a way back for a long time.

Now, though, with most of Skyhold asleep and nothing immediate to address, I found that I was free to look.

My thumbs popped the latches open and I pushed back the lid, slightly grimacing at the way the hinges creaked from lack of oil. The smell of dried lavender, wood, and vellum hit my nostrils. I smiled as nostalgia made my limbs slow and heavy.

With meticulous evaluation, I swam through a sea of memories as I took out all that was in the chest and placed it around me in a semi-circle. Among other things, there was:

Sebastian's pineapple that he carved me on that fateful day in the backyard of the Hawke Estate. My tears from those moments had probably seeped into the wood because I had clutched it so tightly against myself.

The colorful, mesmerizing geode Cullen gave to me in the middle of the night just outside the Hawke Estate. He never thought he'd be able to. And when he had finally mustered up the courage to see my face again after I was abducted and taken to the Gallows, he caught an eyeful of a naked Garrett Hawke and was first introduced to Ser Bubberston.

A raven's feather bound with a bright red twine at the stem that Merrill had gifted to me. She said that it was a good luck charm. I should bring it with me on more missions.

One maroon house robe that I would wear around the estate. Hawke had a matching one--he even wore it in the game. We looked dope with them on.

A small Mabari collar that Bubs outgrew. Had he really been that little as a puppy?

A pouch filled with runes Sandal left on my bed one random day. When I asked them what kind of runes they were, he only said his golden word. I still had no idea what they did.

Several childish and crude drawings of things like genitalia, templars, Fenris, Garrett, and Knight-Commander Meredith done by Anders and me. It had been one of his better days during those last final months before...before the ground zero of the revolution. I missed him. And now I was leading an organization formed in the aftermath of his decision.

A dagger I won from Isabela after she thought she could beat me at a game of Wicked Grace. That was when she found out that I was an impeccable bluffer and a ruthless cheater. The dagger itself had a hilt made from the bone of some animal. I thought it was too elegant to use in any actual fight.

A copper marigold. I had Aveline make me an extra just for myself.

An assortment of dried lavenders and other flowers that had been picked for me. Deeming them too precious to be tossed once they started to wilt, I tucked them away in a collection of books I received from Varric.

The books themselves that were once Varric's own. They were worn with age and use. He brought their pages to life while I lay in bed recovering from the rape, giving me an imaginative distraction from the reality of the situation at the time.

A fragment from the ruins of Vimmark where Corypheus had been imprisoned. 

An empty glass bottle with the faded inscription  _Aggregio Pavali_ scrawled on the front. 

Aside from the other random objects that revealed a memory I had forgotten about, what really got me was the old sketchbook I used to draw and doodle in all the way from when I was still in the alienage and picking random herbs for Bodahn Feddic. The leather binding was loose from being opened and closed and bent so many times, but all of the pages were intact--and filled to the brim with the sketches I had done.

The first page, of course, was Sandal and Bodahn Feddic at their merchant stand in Hightown. After that it was a mixture between face portraits of everyone, sketches of plants and landscapes on the Wounded Coast, random alleyways in Kirkwall, cartoons of Fenris when I disliked him a lot in the beginning, cartoons of everybody in general--all with captions still in English. And after I crawled out of the Deep Roads, I added the Hightown Market, Bubs as a puppy, Bubs and Beefcakes, the Hawke Estate's gardens, Dorian Pavus holding a glass of wine and looking elegant as ever--I had to bust out laughing at that--a random pages full of butts...? Anders as a bird, different kinds of cheeses (and all kinds that Hawke would eat plain), the Hanged Man, more cartoon panels, a page with just scribbles full of indecipherable images that unnerved me, my floppy hat, and Varric's hands for some reason. 

There was enough room on the last page to draw something after Kirkwall had gone to shit. Blood--most likely my own--stained the bottom corner. The sketch itself was sloppy and hastily done. I made it as if I didn't have enough time before everything I knew was gone. Which, in retrospect, was true. After I was tossed into bed by Garrett and given a kiss on the forehead by him, he and everyone else aside from Varric and Aveline cleaned house and were gone before morning. I didn't really get to say goodbye to them. 

So in a half-unconscious state I pulled out the sketchbook and put down one last image. All of us, arm-in-arm, happy, dirty, whole. Without the fate of an entire city resting on our shoulders. Without our own fates weighing us down. It was cliche and unimaginative and messy and I could have drawn so many other things...

Gah. No matter how adamantly I tried to deny it, I was as nostalgic as fuck. 

As I was lost in reminiscing about the past, the door to my chambers opened and I heard a four-legged animal climb up the stairs, followed by somebody saying, "Oi, Quizzy, rounded up your sink-beast for ya. Found him terrorizing nobles. Joined him for a bit until Josie got after us and told me to take Bubs-Nubs up here. And ya know I don't wanna piss her off."

I redirected a portion of my attention to Sera, who bobbed into view as she came up the steps. She paused to take in everything for a moment before saying, "Well fuck me, this is ginormous." Sera's eyes then landed on the top half of my head as I looked over my bed I was resting against.

"Thank you," I called. Bubba jumped on the bed and gave me a prompt lick on the forehead before plopping down. Dark brown eyes regarded the arrangement of mementos and memories I had placed all around me. "Hey mister," I greeted fondly, and reached up to scratch his white muzzle, "you won't believe just what I've been getting into." I grabbed his little puppy collar and held it up for him to see better. "Remember this?"

Sera, who I thought would have taken her leave by now, actually crawled onto the bed beside Bubberston and peered at everything from Kirkwall. "Wot's this?"

I refrained from smiling at her curiosity; Sera had been distancing herself from me as she tried to figure out if I was from a different world or not. I knew she'd have a lot of trouble with it and shouldn't have been so hurt at her disbelief, but slowly and surely she was coming around. And when she was ready to talk about it all, I would be there.

"Oh, it's just something I had shipped from Kirkwall. But everything is a blast from the past, so I'm a little overwhelmed by it all," I responded. "And it doesn't help that Hawke is here now."

"Yeah, I saw 'im and Varric in the tavern. I was gonna say hi, but Varric was full-swing into one of his stories 'bout the Champion."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "I told them to lie low," I muttered mostly to myself. 

Sera giggled. "Yeah, "lying low" wasn't what they were doing." She twisted so she was lying on her back with her head dangling off the edge of the bed. "Heard the three of you were brawling on the battlements."

"No, just Garrett and me." I felt the scab that had formed on my brow. "I'm not proud of it. But we worked it out...or at least some of it. There's still a lot of unresolved issues that I'm sure we'll have to deal with later on."

Her eyes roamed to the open sketchbook on my lap. "You were close with all of 'em, weren't you?"

I gave a nod. "Ya miss 'em?"

"Yeah," I breathed as I looked back down at the page. A finger began pointing out each individual as I continued to speak. "Hawke and Varric are here in Skyhold. Beefcakes is also here, but Hawke said that she wanted to explore so I haven't seen her yet. Aveline is in Kirkwall, running the guard as usual and keeping Kirkwall propped up on stilts. I heard Merrill returned there, too, and was helping the alienage. Isabela was out on open waters for a while, but last I heard she docked in Rivain for a bit. Sebastian goes by King Vael now, though he's never been the same since the Chantry explosion. There's a bitterness to him. I fear it may turn vicious one day. Fenris is...somewhere in Tevinter, fighting against slavers. Carver was shipped off by Aveline when the Templar Order cut ties with the Chantry, thankfully. Things weren't the same between us after the Gallows, but I still love him. And Anders has, well, vanished from the face of the earth. Nobody knows where he is. Or at least nobody is willing to say so."

My finger landed to the small, wiry elf with short hair in the center of everyone. I had drawn myself with a grin instead of a smirk or a smile. "Don't see ya doing much of that," Sera commented. "You don't really like your grin, do ya? You always try to cover it with your mouth when you do. It's kind of there when you laugh, but it's still not the whole thing, innit."

"I had these things called braces for a long time," I admitted. "They're annoying, painful, metal things that dentists put in to straighten your teeth out. I was already self-conscious of my grin anyways, so combining that just made me not want to show it that much. I've gotten more relaxed about it now that I'm older, but back then I hardly ever did so. It's a habit that I should have broken a long time ago, but...it's not as bad as biting your nails or eating your boogers, right?"

The mention of booger-eating made Sera chuckle. "'Spose so, yeah." She rolled back over on her belly with a small  _oof_ noise. Her lips pushed to the side as she continued to peer down at the sketch. "Did you do much with them? Varric is always goin' on and on about how great the Champion and his friends were. But he doesn't mention you a whole lot in the stories. Some, but not all, pretty sure. Not the ones he likes to tell." She flashed a crooked grin of her own. "Except for the one on the Wounded Coast and how you threw rocks at those Tal-Vashoth."

I smiled and rested my head back on the mattress so I was staring up at the lofty ceiling. "Yeah, he really likes that story. But, ah, Varric was just protecting me. Protecting me from questions and prying eyes."

"You mean from people like Cass?"

"Yeah. But in all honesty, I wasn't really there for all the grand adventures they had, nor did I witness some of Hawke's defining moments as the Champion. I was either too busy scavenging plants off the Wounded Coast just to scrape by, stuck in the Fade for six years and watching events that were already in the past for them, or...just at the estate. Recovering."

Sera grunted. "You lost me in the middle, mostly because I don't give a flying fart about Fade snot." She stilled for a moment, awkwardly scritched the side of her head, then said, "Bad stuff happened to ya at the Gallows, didn't it?"

I pursed my lips and nodded once. "Bad...bad shite happened to me too, yeah," Sera continued abruptly, "in Denerim. So I, er, understand." She grumbled and sat up in a cross-legged position. "Whatever. I'm not as focking eloquent as you or Baldy. You know what I mean, though."

"Yes. I do. Thank you, Sera."

She patted the bed with a hand and offered one of her endearing smiles. "Come on, I wanna see all your secret drawings you did. 'Cause if Hawke and Varric are dead by tomorrow, at least ya got what their faces looked like, right?"

-

I had nightmares between the time I fell asleep after talking with Sera and waking up a few hours later. I was with Sebastian in the Chantry and I was trying to get him out before the whole place exploded, but he was fighting me because he wanted to stay and protect Grand Cleric Elthina. The Grand Cleric, in turn, told me that nothing bad was happening and the mages would calm down after Knight-Commander Meredith made them all Tranquil. I tried hitting her but my hands wouldn't work. Sebastian was telling me that I was being embarrassing, and because of my outburst a templar was there to take me away. 

It was my rapist.

When I screamed the only thing that came out was a hoarse whisper. Before he could reach me, though, there was that unmistakable rumbling, that unmistakable smell, that unmistakable fear. Sebastian screamed my name before the world turned red and I was burned away to cinders.

The dream left me with the feeling of emptiness. As if everything I ever worked towards was all for nothing.

Bubs knew that I was in distress and had curled up beside me so I could have someone to cling to. I kissed him on his big head before slipping out from under the blankets and getting ready for the day. The long, long day.

Sera had been a pal and trimmed my undercut on the lower nape of my neck the night before, so when I put my hair up my fingers grazed short white stubble. We talked about cutting all of my hair short again like I had all those years ago, but that wasn't a priority right now. Neither was changing up my style of dress. Josephine had lightly suggested that I check out a few of the new outfits she had placed in my wardrobe, but I disregarded it and put on trousers, a tunic, vest, sash, and scarf. I'd worry about my fashion when there were people I needed to impress.

The thick layer of fog made it difficult to see outside my window, but I knew that it was still mostly dark. Maybe it was...five in the morning? I had grown so reliant on telling the time via the position of the sun/moon that whenever it was obscured by clouds or fog I got turned upside-down. So hopefully everybody would be as messed up as I was and wouldn't notice if I was too late or too early.

I gave Bubberston plenty of morning kisses to wake him up. He grumbled and huffed at me, but there wasn't a day that went by when he didn't. He was a morning grump, but his dour attitude only prepared me for dealing with the grumpiness of the Inner Circle when I made them rise and shine a few hours earlier than they were used to. 

When he was up and on his feet, I threw on my coat and exited the chamber. I sang softly to myself as I descended the stairs and, as always, took some joy in seeing Bubba's tail wag at the sound of my voice. By the time we had reached the bottom of the staircase the both of us were lightly prancing to Tangled's  _I Got A Dream._ But the second I opened the door that led into the great hall, I was serious and silent. Though I was pretty sure some of the servants preparing the hall for breakfast overheard the song and were trying to hide their smiles. It was probably less about the fact that I was singing at all, and more about the fact that I replaced many of the words with Bubba and things pertaining to Bubba. Still, I remained unashamed and bid them a good morning before leaving the hall itself. 

The fog wasn't any better in the main courtyard and was too quiet for my liking. So to fill in the silence, I couldn't help but start singing again. Nobody was around--and if anybody was we couldn't see each other. I sang a verse from Agnes Obel's song  _Riverside._ The melody fit the atmosphere...and I had a flair for the dramatic.

I saw Hallah Lynne at some point standing in the fog, but she was gone before I could call her out. What a weirdo. 

But her presence hardly fazed me at the moment. I continued to the destination I had in mind and eventually found my way to the tavern. When I opened the door my senses were, of course, overwhelmed by the smell of stale beer and stale body odor. It  _almost_ had the ambiance of the Hanged Man. 

The place was chilly and dim; the flames in the fireplace were all but smoldering scraps. I lowered my voice back down to a hum as I searched the tavern room and found just who I was looking for. 

I had a feeling Garrett would want to retreat to alcohol after everything was said and done; he had that guarded look in his eyes after I left him and Varric in his appointed room. They both did. I just figured that Varric would be at least a  _little_ responsible and made sure that his friend would get back to his bedroom before dawn. And especially since he had a meeting with me--as the Inquisitor--and the rest of the advisers about the situation with Corypheus and the Grey Wardens. 

But no. Varric had severed his reservations and got piss-drunk along with Garrett. It was pitiful. But at least  _he_ had passed out in a chair with his head on the table. Hawke, however, was sprawled on a table and loudly snoring. Drool ran in a long stream out the corner of his mouth. 

The only thing that made the image better was that Beefcakes was soundly sleeping under the table. She heard me enter the tavern and lifted her head to see who it was through forming cataracts. Her nub of a tail began shaking wildly, and she made a happy, grunting noise before she got to her feet.

"Hi, girl," I whispered loudly as I knelt on one leg to wrap my arms around her neck. She licked the side of my face and talked to me for a bit. "Yeah, I missed you too. And so did Bubberston. You still look as beautiful as the day I last saw you." I massaged the soft, loose skin on her back and gave her kisses before letting go so she could greet Bubba and catch up with him. There were white hairs around her muzzle and eyes, now, but I was sure she could still tear a man's throat out without missing a beat. Beefs still had a few years left in her yet.

Then I turned back to the task at hand. "Oh, lord," I muttered before roughly shaking Varric's shoulder. "Wake up time, sweetums!" I crowed loudly. He immediately jolted awake before groaning and putting his head in his hands.

"Ugh, what...what time is it?" he murmured. His gravelly and hungover voice made him sound like he had crawled from the pits of hell. The smell of alcohol washed off him in waves. 

"Early enough for you to be in an actual bed," I answered with infinite patience. I looked over to Hawke. "God, Varric, you were supposed to make sure he would lie low."

"Yeah, yeah, chew me out when...when I don't feel like I'm going to hurl."

I made a face. "Man, how much did you have to drink? You can usually hold an absurd amount of liquor."

Varric's response was just a distracted grumble. "Anyways, Hawke and I have a meeting in a few hours and I'm not pushing it back because the both of you decided to get shit-faced. So I'm--"

I was interrupted as Varric woozily stood and made his way to the door to vomit outside. Or at least get some fresh, foggy air to try and alleviate the nausea. Bubs and Beefcakes followed behind him, leaving me to deal with the mess that was Garrett Hawke.

With a prolonged sigh, I put my arms underneath his back and legs and picked him up with a grunt. When he was up off the table, I swung him over one of my wiry shoulders  _not_ made for throwing grown men on. But because I had an "unusual" amount of strength in my compacted body, I was able to carry Garrett with ease. He didn't even stir as his face bounced against my buttcheek. If he had awoken, the direction could begin with one of three sentences:

"Maker, Alaran, why is your butt so uncomfortable?"

"Maker, Alaran, if you liked me then you should have told me."

"Maker, Alaran, I can walk myself."

But no. Instead I hauled him back up the stairs to his room in silence. I couldn't see Varric in the fog, but figured he'd find his way to the same place I was going. 

The kitchen workers had almost everything ready for breakfast when I came back into the main hall. The smell of food made my stomach growl annoyingly. They tried to avert their eyes from me and the giant bird I was carrying over my shoulder, but ultimately failed. I didn't blame them. It must have been quite the sight, watching the illustrious Inquisitor carry the famous Champion, whose limp fingers nearly brushed the floor as I walked.

Leliana would hear within the hour. The rest of Skyhold in a few more. I wondered what they would make of it. Probably nothing, but maybe something. I'd worry about it later, I supposed. I did a lot of that lately. 

As soon as I got to Hawke's room I dumped him down on the bed, made sure he had a cup of water by his nightstand and that his shoes were off, and left. He'd be fine. I was a little pissed that he decided to get wasted right before a major meeting discussing the fate of the Wardens and their correlation to Corypheus, but it wasn't worth stewing over. We all coped in different ways.

I wound up back in my room and waited for breakfast to be delivered to me. Usually I would have done a morning walk on the battlements and maybe have done some yoga, but the fog made for a dismal view. I hoped Bull would be alright; his PTSD always flared up whenever there was any in the air. Maybe after I finished up some last-minute paperwork I'd go and bring him some hot chocolate. He liked that stuff a lot. 

He, Vivienne, and Leliana were still on the fence about acknowledging who I was and where I originated from. Unfortunately, I hadn't had time to spend with the first two--and the spymaster was too hard to read for me to know her thoughts. Once Leliana realized that I had a knack for deciphering and discerning people based on their body language she took extra precautions to guard herself around me. But I'd figure her out, eventually.

Breakfast was brought up to me by the one and only Ivena. I had personally asked for the timid, gentle, faithful elf when we reached Skyhold. I knew she'd be honest with me when I'd ask her how things were for the servants--who were still primarily elves. And I didn't like the term "servants" either. But yeah, Ivena was great. She'd be a useful ally and a good informant, and I'd be able to rely on her. She even said that she liked my glasses, which made me glow a little inside.

When I no longer had anything to do in my chambers, I stacked my paperwork in three separate piles meant for the spymaster, ambassador, and commander. Then I placed them in soft, folder-like leathers and bound them with a cord to keep everything in place. They'd then be given one when the War Room meeting commenced. 

Then some letter-writing began. Once I finished I'd deliver them to the rookery and sent off attached to the feet of ravens.

_My Dear Merrill..._

_My Queenly Aveline..._

_My Spicy Isabela..._

_My Vigilant Sebastian..._

_My Salty Carver..._

And even to those whose location I didn't know.

_My Broody Fenris..._

_My Sweet Anders..._

Should they need aid, assistance, asylum, or advice, the Inquisition would be here. Or, more importantly, I'd be here.

...Also, they needed to know that Garrett was alive.

-

I was the first one in the War Room by the time everybody arrived. Cullen was next (he was always seven to ten minutes early), Josephine was second (her desk was close to the chamber so she was two to three minutes early), and Leliana was exactly on time (I didn't know how she did it). As we waited to see if Hawke would show up without having to be forcibly removed from his bed, we went over the papers I had given them to get a few smaller tasks out of the way.

Josephine's nose always slightly crinkled at my handwriting. I had seen her do it in Haven, and I saw her do it still. "Alright," I sighed, interrupting myself from some random noise I realized I was making as I went over one of Leliana's reports, "what's on the tip of your tongue, Josie?"

She looked to me, feigning a hint of startlement. "Inquisitor?" she inquired politely.

"Get it out," I said as I motioned my hands. "What is it about my writing that you don't like?"

Leliana let out a soft, single laugh. Josephine tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear and replied, "There is nothing that I  _dislike,_ per say. It's just..." She glanced at me once more to get permission to speak freely. My expectant gaze was all she needed to see. "Well," she let out in a rushed breath, "you don't seem to realize the importance of the comma or the semi-colon. Whenever I read whatever you write, I always gain the sense of urgency. You write like you're running out of time, that's all. Leliana and Commander Cullen do not seem to mind your occasional run-on sentences, so do not take what I say heavily."

By the end of Josephine's statement I was outwardly smirking. "Oh, Josie," I drawled as the corners of my eyes crinkled in a precise manner to display amusement. "You act as if I'm mortally wounded by being reminded of how to properly structure a sentence. I've been literate with this language for...what, five, six years now? I should know how to write in Common." I winked at her. "I'll be sure to proofread next time."

Truth be told, Montilyet's observation unnerved me. I wrote like I was running out of time? 

It was as if I knew my lifespan was metered. I forced myself to ignore it in every aspect, but it would not be forgotten. 

Before I could overthink the fear and implode like a dying star, the door to the War Room animatedly opened and in walked Garrett Hawke. The smell of alcohol permeated the room almost immediately, but other than that the Champion looked spiffy and ready to face the day. He even changed into another pair of clothes: a simple teal tunic that dipped down into a small V-neck and brown leather trousers.

"Good morning everyone," Hawke greeted jovially as he took a place next to me. "Sorry for my lateness; I got lost. This place is big."

"You smell like the tavern floor," I commented dryly. Hawke grinned, put an arm around me, and applied some pressure in order to get me to slouch. It had been a secret contest between us; my strength versus his was always subtly tested. 

I refused to let my body fold an inch and instead patted his stomach with a  _little_ more firmness than I would have usually used. He stifled a groan and let his arm drop.

"If you two are quite done," Leliana said wryly, "can we begin?"

I sucked in a breath, let it out, and gave a nod. "We shall, spymaster." I picked up an extra operation marker between my fingers and recalled yesterday's conversation with Hawke on the battlements. "Hawke fought and killed Corypheus. The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them. Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other. Meaning that if the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again." I repeated what Garrett told me word for word.

Just as it had done yesterday, I felt guilt rise in the back of my throat like vomit. I had guessed what Hawke found out ages ago; assumed and didn't do anything. Because though I had cut some of my strings, I was still entwined within the intricate web of lies I set up. I wasn't ready to tell them that they were part of a game. A game that  _I_ had played, no less. Played and prevented nothing.

"In order to see if we can reverse it," Garrett continued, "we need more information. I told Ala--the Inquisitor that I have a contact in the Grey Warden ranks. He was investigating something unrelated for me. The last we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing. He said he'd be waiting for me in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood."

I had been watching Leliana the moment Hawke mentioned his contact. But she felt my eyes on her and revealed nothing except a spark in her pale blue eyes. "A contact? What is their name? Are they to be trusted? I've had dealings with Grey Wardens in the past; they hold to their secrets dearly."

Garrett never realized it, but when he was put to the challenge he held well under pressure. Instead of displaying signs of hesitancy and weakness, he held strong against the spymaster's relentless gaze. "You should know him, Sister Nightingale. He was the second-in-command of your small company during the Fifth Blight."

The operation marker slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. Garrett hadn't...he hadn't  _told_ me just who the Warden was. 

"You're not talking about..." I whispered in astonishment as everything clicked. "Oh, but you  _are."_

Leliana let her carefully crafted mask fall to the floor as well. "Alistair? Alistair Therin?" she interrogated sharply. "The last time we knew his whereabouts, he was traveling with Warden-Commander Brosca."

"Not anymore," Garrett said, nose twitching slightly. His nose almost  _always_ twitched whenever he told a bald-faced lie. "And if he is, I wouldn't have any idea."

"We  _searched_ for them--" Leliana began to say sharply, but stopped herself and recomposed with great effort. "It matters little, now. I trust Alistair, even though his avoidance to responsibility posed problems in the past. Though, I suppose, that was more than a decade ago. We have both changed." 

There was a somewhat awkward pause as Leliana receded back to memories none of us were permitted to join. I picked up the operations marker I had dropped before sitting on the edge of the war table. "Thanks for that bombshell, Garrett." Confusion passed across his face as I used a term he wasn't familiar with. It made me dread explaining to him my real identity even more. "But let's go over the mind control Corypheus can use over the Grey Wardens from the top. After that, I want to set up a date to go to Crestwood. We've got a legend to meet."

-

If the War Room meeting wasn't stressful enough, right when I got out I received word from Ivena's cousin's wife that Seeker Pentaghast was marching Master Tethras to her place of residence. Neither looked very happy. When I asked when this occurred, the answer was not two minutes ago. Ivena wanted me to be informed directly and without delay. Lord, I loved that woman.

I hurriedly walked all the way from the main hall to where Cassandra had chosen to set up shop. The day was nice, the fortress was busy, and I even saw Solas taking a nice stroll through the courtyard. I could have relaxed a bit, diverted my time to something productive,  _flirted._

But no. 

Instead I was rushing to see if Cassandra transitioned to stabbing dwarves instead of books. 

As soon as I entered the building I heard the sound of feet scuffing against hardwood floor. The workers who had started their duties on the first floor uncomfortably ignored what was happening above them. I gave them an apologetic wave and started to quickly climb up the stairs.

"You knew where Hawke was all along!" Cassandra shouted furiously. She then grunted as there was the sound of somebody shoving another.

"You're damned right I did!" Varric shouted back just as heatedly. God, I could have gone my whole life without hearing him raise his voice in such an angry way. 

"You conniving little shit!"

Just as I reached the top of the stairs to come upon the scene, Cassandra was already swinging her fist at Varric's face. He failed to duck in time and caught her blow with his nose.

Blood spurted almost cinematically in the air. Varric clutched his nose and stumbled to the other side of a table, swearing profusely at the Seeker before he began yelling thickly, "You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?"

"Hey! Enough!" I intervened with my voice of steel. The two of them realized that they weren't alone and looked to me.

"You're taking  _his_ side?" Cassandra accused. She then frustratedly threw her arms in the air. "Of course you are!"

"I said  _enough!"_ I cut through, making sure that they  _felt_ the finality in my voice. 

Cassandra prowled towards me, some fight still left in her. "We needed someone to lead this Inquisition," she snarled. "Hawke was our only hope. He was the Champion of Kirkwall. The mages respected him. First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but he had vanished. Then we looked for Hawke, but he was gone, too. We thought it all connected, but no." Her eyes locked on Varric. "It was just you. You kept him from us."

Varric gestured to me with his free hand as he stemmed his bleeding nose. "The Inquisition  _has_ a leader. And a damned good one, too!"

"Hawke would have been at the Conclave! If  _anyone_ could have saved the Most Holy..."

Ah. So there it was. 

"Attacking him now won't help us, Cassandra," I said firmly. 

"Exactly!" Varric agreed. I cast my cold violet eyes on him as well.

"And  _you_ had better not keep any more secrets from us."

That struck a sore spot. Varric let out a frustrated sigh before saying, "I understand."

"Varric is a liar, Inquisitor," Cassandra continued to argue vehemently, "A snake. He lied to us, lied to  _you._ Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, Varric kept him secret. Surely you haven't just let that  _go,_ have you?"

"He's with us now," the dwarf countered. "We're on the same side!"

Cassandra refrained from outright spitting at his feet. "We all know who's side you're on,  _Varric,"_ she said venomously. "It will never be the Inquisition's."

"Varric has earned his right to be here, Cassandra," I tried to say as neutrally as possible. She showed outward signs of disapproval. "He's a vital part of the Inquisition, just as you and I are. Do not forget that. And do not forget that Varric is not responsible for what happened at the Conclave. He was just protecting Hawke."

"Of course you take his side," the Seeker fumed, but she was showing signs of losing steam. "You will always take his side, because you are blind to what he really is."

I showed my own disapproval by raising a sharp eyebrow. "You are wrong, Seeker. I know Varric better than you. I know his strengths and his flaws--I have been helped and hurt by both. More than you can ever imagine. But he saw what needed to be done and did it, with or without anybody's approval."

By using Cassandra's own words against her I had inadvertently dealt the final blow. Her brows drew together in residual anger and blossoming pain. "So I must accept...what? That the Maker  _wanted_ all this to happen?" Her voice hitched. Something stirred within her in sorrow. Something that was more of a branch of Cassandra than Cassandra herself. "That He, that He..."

The fire had dimmed to a flame which then sputtered into nothing. Cassandra turned away from Varric and me so she could lean against another small table and gather herself. "I must not think of what could have been," she stated hollowly. "We have so much at stake. Go, Varric. Just...go."

I looked to him and gave a small nod in agreement. He, too, seemed to have lost all energy. At least his nose had stopped bleeding. He began to descend the stairs, but before he departed he stopped and added bitterly, "You know what I think? If Hawke had been at the temple, he'd be dead, too. You people have done enough to him. And by the end of it, you'll have done the same to Alaran."

A sad frown weighed on my lips. Varric realized he had kicked Cassandra while she was down and silently left.

When his footsteps down the stairs faded, Cassandra said softly, "I...believed him. He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it. If I'd just explained what was at stake...if I'd just made him understand..." She moved to a chair and sat down in it. "But I didn't, did I? I didn't explain why we needed Hawke."

I took up the chair facing her and leaned forward. More to herself than to me, Cassandra muttered, "I am such a fool." 

"Cassandra," I said gently, "what is this really about?"

She stared down at her gloved hands for a few moments. "I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter. I...I don't deserve to be here."

I tried wiping away the smile that sprouted, but I couldn't quite succeed. Cassandra wanted to scowl at it but didn't seem to have the energy for it. "Have you looked at our Inquisition, Cassandra? We're  _all_ fools, here. So I'd say that you really do deserve to be part of this gaggle of odd shapes and colors."

She chuckled mirthfully. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

My smile turned into a smirk. "More at home, maybe."

Cassandra let out a breath she forgot she had been holding. "I want you to know, I have no regrets. You tell me that this Hallah Lynne sent you, not the Maker, but I have to believe that there is still a divine role in your--in our--lives. That the Maker wanted you to be here, not the Hero of Ferelden or Hawke. You're...not what I'd pictured. But if I've learned anything, it's that I know less than nothing."

"I'm not what you pictured?" I countered teasingly to lighten the mood. "What did you expect, anyways?"

"Not...you. That's the best I can describe it."

"What, that pause you made basically sums up your thoughts about me?" I questioned with a playful scoff. "I highly doubt that's true, but okay." I patted her long leg and stood. "Come on, Cass, let's go blow off some steam with a somewhat friendly spar. We'll have to fight each other, seeing as you destroyed all the training dummies."

"That is the best suggestion I've heard all day."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry this chapter was so long. I just couldn't find a good enough place to break. I'm honestly surprised I cranked this out; I didn't think I'd have enough time. But here we are! And hopefully by the next couple of chapters Alaran is going to meet Alistair. I've honestly dreamed about the moment. And if you couldn't tell, I've made deviations to the story compared to "Wait, What?" because S&RE is like a second chance that allows me to change things for what I believe to be better. I love it. And I love you guys!
> 
> And guess what? By next week I'll be back home in the States. I'm pretty stoked.
> 
> Stay lovely, everybody!


	44. Nothing Seriously Super

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets some fluff time

"So? Do you like it?"

"In case you couldn't tell from the grin plastered on my face...yes. Yes I do." I let out a high-pitched laugh and stepped back so I could fully take in my new greatsword. "Dagna! This is magnificent!"

The eccentric dwarf clapped her hands together excitedly. "Good! I was nervous because there you were, big bad Inquisitor, asking me to craft  _you_ a weapon on my first day here. I mean, I've crafted all  _sorts_ of things, but never exactly anything like that. Harritt helped, of course! Oh, he's great. A bit grumpy, but I'll get to him eventually." Dagna was openly pacing, now. "I infused your sword with a flaming rune, just like you asked. The main problem with putting runes into weapons is that it can be tricky to turn the rune off and on--which, in essence, is possible, but that's not the point--but I know what I'm doing. You wouldn't have hired me onto the Inquisition if I didn't."

"Very true," I smiled, happy to see just how much Dagna loved her work. "So how do I get the rune to turn on?"

"You see where it's at the top of the hilt?" I squinted at the little engraving just beneath the guard and gave a nod. "You have to activate it with the direct application of heat, so pressing your thumb against it for about three seconds should do the trick. Try it!"

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, took a few steps back, and got into a defensive stance. Dagna was grinning eagerly as Harritt pretended to be busy while he secretly watched. I moved my thumb over the rune and felt the own spot of heat it was emanating. I held it there and began counting how long it took to be activated. 

Three and a half. 

Three and a half seconds for my sword to be  _fucking engulfed in flames._

"Fuck yeah!" I shouted appropriately as I regarded the fiery weapon in amazement. "I love it! I love it so much!"

I made sweeping arcs, thrusts, and other defensive and offensive moves to see how the flames worked with the weapon. They certainly siphoned off heat, but the rune seemed to be aware of its proximity to me and didn't distribute the same amount of fire to one area if it was close to my body. Dagna spouted off a long, one-person conversation about how she managed to get the rune to sense the wielder so as to not burn them. I could only laugh even more gleefully and repeatedly declare that I was Thoros of Myr. 

Eventually, though, I had to put my new  ~~toy~~ weapon away so I could be fitted with my new armor and, after that, tend to my other duties. Just like how I activated the rune, I turned it off by holding my thumb to the small engraving until it powered down. The metal wasn't even hot from the flames, which I found disconcerting and fascinating at the same time. My knowledge of enchanting was slim--the only other person I knew who could slap a rune onto anything without it exploding wasn't the most talkative--but now that Dagna was here perhaps I could learn more. I was always a sucker for knowledge.

It'd probably be the death of me someday, alongside the million of other things that had the large chance of doing the same.

Dagna gave me my new set of armor. Because, much to the agreement of many, fighting in regular clothes and Varric's jacket wasn't the best idea. They had let it slide when I was merely the "Herald," but now that I was the "Inquisitor" things had to change. The worst part of the whole ordeal was that I couldn't even  _disagree_ with them.

Fortunately, Dagna had a sick sense of Armor Couture. She had listened to my requests: no boob-plates, plenty of flexibility, nothing too heavy, and still resembled Free Marcher style. In turn, I got breathable, collared tunics to go under my light chain mail, a breastplate emblazoned with the Hairy Eyeball, a dark blue leather jacket that cut off at the same length of the breastplate, and thick sashes to wear to protect my stomach. The only thing I said no to was the tailcoat she offered to add onto the uniform. Other than that, though, I was extremely happy with what I got. There was even a sick utility belt that Batman would have been jealous of. Dagna said that by the time I'd get back from Crestwood she'd have a helmet ready for me to wear that would be functional with my glasses. 

"Have I told you that I love you, yet?" I asked Dagna as I reluctantly got back out of my armor. She giggled and waved me off as an actual blush turned her cheeks pink. 

"No, I don't believe you have."

I clasped both of my hands on her shoulders and looked down at her seriously. "Well, Dagna, I love you. You have worked so hard your whole life, and the Inquisition will make sure that you're given all the resources you need to fulfill everything your genius mind comes up with. I take the pursuit of knowledge and exploration of intelligence very seriously, so if you ever need anything that is denied by the requisition office or the advisers, just come to me. Alright?"

"Alright," Dagna beamed. "Gosh, they said you were kind of intimidating, but I think you're really nice! You have a thinking mind."

"Wait, who said I was intimidating?" I questioned. Dagna shrugged. 

"It's just the general impression most people get from you, I think. Nothing personal, I promise! Intimidating is good, though, especially with the position you're in."

"True enough," I agreed with a contemplative half-frown. I gave Dagna's shoulders one more pat before I let them fall back down to my sides. "Well, I should get going. Before I do, though, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes, anything!"

"Could you write up an account of what things were like at Kinloch Hold after the Circles fell? What happened to everyone? What you had to do? And if you know anybody who the Inquisition could assist?"

"Definitely," Dagna nodded firmly. "I'll get right on it."

"Awesome," I smirked. "You're doing good work! And you too, Harritt!"

The blacksmith grunted in response as he sharpened a blade. I left the forge and returned to the warmth and liveliness of the main hall. Outside was a bit cooler, but not by much. Spring had finally passed, leaving room for  _late_ spring. That meant warmer days, no random snowstorms, and blooming flowers. Skyhold was already abundant with various shades of green and carried the scent of freshly toiled earth. It reminded me a little of Central Park, where I played music just like every other musician in the city. Maybe I'd get myself a violin--I had only played it in the Fade. Perhaps the next visit I took to Val Royeaux...

"Ah, Inquisitor!"

I stopped mid-thought and looked directly ahead of the staircase I was going down. Solas was walking up it, a wrapped package under one arm. He raised a hand in greeting. I raised one back, smiling. "Good day to you, Solas," I said as we stopped in front of one another. As I was a couple steps above him, I was actually taller. He tilted his head up to me, a smug-ass glint still in his eyes. Gosh, he was such a pain in the neck.

Yet I was still smiling. Broadly. "What's in that package?" I questioned without breaking eye contact. 

"Some painting materials."

"That's very underwhelming," I stated knowingly. "You should make something up. Something interesting."

I was already in a good mood, so being this close to Solas' handsome face made me want to pull him in even closer so we could kiss. Even though I knew I wouldn't because we were out in broad daylight, it was still tempting.

Instead I studied the spattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, the little divot right above his brow, and the way his mouth curved upwards in a smile. "Very well," Solas said, taking me up on my suggestion. "Under my arm I have ancient texts from the Blessed Age concerning the fluctuations of the Veil after certain thunderstorms."

My eyebrows shot up past the upper rims of my spectacles. A second later I leaned back laughing. The  _humor_ of this guy. "Y-you go from talking about  _painting materials_ to  _ancient texts_ because--because that's obviously more interesting? Really?"

Solas gave me an expectant look. "Yes, as I assumed the imaginary text could be something to interest the both of us greatly."

"Yeah, that's why  _I'm laughing._ Because it really is! It's just..." I broke down into another bout of giggles. "It's just accurate and I really do find it funny. I'm not just laughing because I think you're cute, I promise."

"Thank you," Solas replied smoothly, the only sign of fluster being the pink on the tips of his ears. "That is comforting to know."

"Hey, come and walk with me to the stables. I wanted to see how my mounts are doing and ask Dennet which ones would be sturdiest for the trip to Crestwood. You're coming to Crestwood, right?"

"Yes, if that is what you wish."

"It is most definitely what I wish. Just try not to tear Sera's head off."

He made a noise as we started to both walk down the stairs. I held my hands up blamelessly. "Hey, she's a wonderful asset and friend. We'll need her sharp eyes for scouting and hunting. But don't worry, I'll make sure she won't give you wedgies or anything."

"Wedgies?" Solas repeated.

"Ya know, when somebody takes your underwear and yanks it up? Wedges it between your buttcheeks?"

"Ah, yes." Solas spoke as if he was recollecting an ancient quote rather than a crude thing children did. "Is that what it is called on Earth? Or did you make it up?"

I sniffed. "I don't make  _every_ word up, Solas. And yes, yes it is an actual term on Earth."

When he chuckled my stomach did little flippity-flops. "Good, I am glad to hear."

"So," I prompted as my train-of-thought shifted tracks, "Let's play a game of Would You Rather. Solas, would you rather constantly have dog poo on the bottom of your foot, or have something stuck in your teeth all the time...?"

-

"Uh oh," Garrett suddenly said as he straightened and focused on a spot down in the courtyard below. "Varric, you didn't tell me the Inquisitor had a love interest."

"What are you talking about?" Varric asked with a half-scoff. He looked up from his writings and shook a slightly aching hand with a quill positioned between his fingers. "Al doesn't like anyone. I don't think she has a sexual bone in her body, actually."

"First of all, don't use the word  _sexual_ ever again. It doesn't suit you. Second of all, you're wrong." Hawke nodded his head in the same direction he was looking. "She's all over that...that bald dad. Look, they're going to the stables right now to have a romp in the hay."

"What are you talking about?" Varric propelled himself off the stone wall he was leaning against and gazed downwards. Al wasn't hard to spot out; her white hair shone in the warm sunlight. Walking next to her was Chuckles, his head turned to her as he discussed something while gesturing with a controlled hand. Much unlike Al, who was animatedly moving both her arms and made the occasional odd leg-kick. 

Varric snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Al and Solas? Nah. They're always at each other's throats. They said that they had a past relationship that turned sour, but it's bullshit. I think they just had a bad run-in. Maker knows Chuckles is an arrogant ass. A smart one, 'course, and goodhearted, but an ass all the same."

"Aw," Hawke cooed, "The Observant Varric, getting down every little detail of every small moment, fails to see that his daughter has the hots for somebody who  _definitely_ has the hots back."

"Hey," Varric argued, "I know what it looks like when people like each other, alright? But Al is...like a brick wall when it comes to seeing that others are attracted to her." He held up a hand to begin counting off. "I mean, look at what happened with Curly and Fenris and Carver and Merrill and--"

"Don't say it--"

 _"You._ All signs of affection, unknowingly rebuffed. I don't think it'll be any different with Chuckles over there..." 

Varric trailed off as he peered down at Al and Solas, who had both stopped by the stable entrance. She clasped a hand on Solas' shoulder and positioned herself closer than normal. Chuckles didn't step back and leaned in a fair amount. Alaran pointed something out on his chest with her other hand, making Solas look down. 

"Don't fall for it--" Hawke started, but before he could finish Alaran's finger flicked upward and got Solas' nose. Instead of reeling back, however, he merely shook his head and said something to make Alaran laugh again. They then continued into the stables, hands brushing against the others' for a brief moment as they walked.

Nah. It was nothing.

Or was it?

Al never showed interest in anyone--at least not knowingly. And Solas...he would just say that he was too "intelligent" to succumb to lesser emotions of attraction. Right?

"Hate to break it to you, Varric," Hawke said sympathetically, "but Alaran has a new number one guy in her life."

Varric shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Hey, Al is a big girl who has a mind of her own. You're not going to get a rise out of me, Hawke."

His friend  _tsked._ "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it was worth a shot." The Champion leaned forward on the ledge as he continued to stare at the stables. "What do we know about this  _Solas,_ though?"

"Not much. And whatever you're thinking, factor me out of it. I'm not going to fuck up the repairs I've made with her."

"Well then it's a good thing that I'm a major fuck-up, isn't it?"

A sigh escaped Varric as he got a vague idea of what Garrett was going to try and get himself into. He hated taking preemptive measures.

-

Hawke and Varric left for Crestwood a day ahead of us. I only received word of it twenty minutes beforehand. Varric had written a hasty letter saying something about keeping me safe from the fuckery of Garrett Hawke and that I should be grateful he was voluntarily venturing out into the shithole that was Crestwood.

In the meanwhile, I did boring things like more paperwork, meetings with the advisers, playing fetch with Bubba, checking on how my Inner Circle was doing, and coordinating where the Valo-Kas would go while serving under the Hairy Eyeball.

And in what little free time I had, I spent it with Solas. 

We just...got along  _so well._ He laughed at my jokes--and when he didn't he appropriately rolled his eyes. I loved listening to him talk and see a child-like excitement ignite him when discussing something that mattered to the both of us. We just had a  _passion_ for knowledge and creativity and it was...

It was so awesome.

I was falling for him. Really, really fast. And even though I was going to Crestwood to meet a hella dope Warden legend to discuss the horrible reality of what Corypheus was doing, I couldn't help but be excited about the fact that Solas was accompanying the group to the region. 

Was it weird, crushing hard on an ancient elvhen god?

"The answer is no," Hallah Lynne responded as she lounged on my couch while I set up materials in the upper, random tier of my bedroom. I wasn't sure what the small balcony was for, exactly, but I could use it as a little drawing and painting space. "Solas was crushing on you way before you were on him, so  _technically_ it should be the other way around."

"Stop that," I said automatically as I adjusted the height of my canvas stand. "I said you could only hang out with me if you didn't invade my private, tangent thoughts."

"Sorry, forgot," she apologized.

"No you didn't."

"You're right. I didn't." Hallah began throwing what looked to be a bouncy ball in the air, catching it each time with hands too large to be solely human. I sighed disapprovingly and put both hands on my hips.

"Ya know, why don't you show me your wondrous powers by snapping a finger and having everything I'm setting up here just  _be set up._ No fuss, no coconuts."

"Eh, I could, but I don't feel like it," Hallah called back. With each toss the bouncy ball climbed higher and higher. "But anyways, let's get back onto the topic of your Daddy Kink--"

_"Hallah!"_

"I mean the hots you have for Solas. You wanna kiss him, right? Hold him? Squeeze him? Squeeze his  _butt?"_

"He does have a good butt," I mumbled in agreement as I descended the ladder to the first floor of my bedroom to grab more things. "But that's not the point. Wait, what point were you trying to make in the first place?"

"You two go well together. Just a couple of nerds, obsessing over nerdy things, complementing the other's personalities...it's cute." Hallah chucked the bouncy ball so high that it hit the ceiling and ricocheted insanely fast back at her. Still, she caught it effortlessly. What a shame. I partially hoped that she would sense my desire to see the bouncy ball hit her in the face and let it occur. "And cuteness leads to intimacy. Little Lamb, you're the Master Commander of affection, but you and I both know that you still got problems when it comes to thinking about having sex."

"Yeah," I automatically replied, "but I'm just trying to stick with the  _Toughen Up_ mentality and eventually get over it. That's usually worked about..."

"None of the time?"

 _"Most of the time."_ I grabbed a chair and started to climb back up the ladder with one arm. "It's...just...my...style," I spoke between grabbing each rung with one hand. 

"Your style has been noted to self-destruct," Hallah chimed. "But we've got a little ways to go until your sex life becomes an actuality. So when that time comes, you and I are going to have some nice talks."

I wanted to snap something at Hallah out of instinct, but she was just being a decent person and telling me that I needed to sort out some issues that had never really been...sorted. And she was right.

But, if we weren't going to talk about it now, then I wasn't going to worry about it. A classic Alaran move. 

Go me!

"Hey, Hallah?" I called as I positioned the chair I brought up, "what's going to be the deal with the Wardens? Is there anything I need to get ready for? We're leaving tomorrow, so...a little heads-up would be nice."

She outright laughed. "Nice try."

I grumbled frustratedly. Honestly, though, I shouldn't have expected anything different. Hallah was Hallah. "Well, I just wanna talk to you," I continued to say, mildly surprised at my own words. "So is there anything you're willing to say? Like, how are therapy sessions with the people going?"

"Good. A lot of people are traumatized, but that's not unusual after something like Haven happened. People are strong, though. Stronger than they themselves know." Hallah sat up into a slouching position. Her long legs seemed to stretch for miles as they bent at gangly angles. "Everybody thinks that erasing pain from the mind would be the easiest, fastest solution to happiness. But what they find isn't the real thing. Overcoming that pain, working through it, is the actual key to happiness. Because that way you know that what you have is absolutely, achingly, joyously real."

"Very true," I agreed as I leaned against the railing of the little indoor balcony. I pushed my glasses up and tilted my head at the Traveler. "How many places have you been to, Lynne?"

"A lot."

"And are people basically the same anywhere you go?"

"More or less, yeah."

"Do you ever get tired of it? Seeing people go through the same problems, fight wars for the same reasons, kill for the same people...I'm sure there's a pattern."

Hallah pushed her lips to the side in brief thought. "I suppose it can be a little draining, seeing things happen over and over again in countless situations. But I wouldn't have lasted as long as I have if I didn't find something original and different in each and every person." She shrugged her shoulders and slouched even lower. "It's hard to describe. Or, it's so vague and abstract that you'll be bored by the end of it."

"I doubt that's true," I said as I turned to continue setting up the studio on my balcony. "But I understand. Sometimes things are really clear in your head until you try and say it and find that it's actually not."

"Exactly," Hallah agreed. In one unnatural, fluid motion, she stood up and stretched. Her white,  _5K Walk-A-Thon to Prevent Diabetes,_ t-shirt slid up her stomach a few inches before she let her arms drop back down to the sides. "Well, I had better get going. It was really nice talking with you, Little Lamb. If you need anything you know where to find me."

"But I don't, though," I retorted dryly.

"Oh, and I'm sorry about you getting attacked. He's actually a really good guy. He's just had a rough go."

"Wait, what?" I questioned puzzledly. Hallah only pointed finger-guns at me, grinned, and just disappeared like a fucking fart in the wind.

I made a gargled scream and heatedly kicked the empty air. 

-

Nobody-- _nobody--_ appreciated how early I got up. A lot of people tolerated it, like Bull and Leliana and Cassandra and Cullen, but even they weren't excited at the hours I awoke at. Did they think that I  _liked_ getting up at four in the morning? But could I help it if I even tried? 

No. The answer was no. I tried everything from taking lavender-scented baths before bed to heavy-duty sleeping potions. But all the baths did was make me smell good and all the potions did was turn me into a half-drugged zombie. Nothing worked. But since I was such a fantastic person, I used my early-morning schedule to an advantage and planned our departure to Crestwood accordingly. By that I meant that everybody had to get up almost as early as I did and head out so we would make it to our destination in four days' time. 

Since I wanted to get there fairly quickly, I decided on bringing just a small contingent with me. Solas, Sera, and Dorian. Varric was supposed to go with us, but he ditched out early to travel with Hawke. Iron Bull was already on a mission with the Chargers, Cassandra wasn't ready to pretend like everything was okay, Cole still freaked too many people out, and Vivienne was too busy helping Josephine with contacting and pleasing nobility. And I figured Blackwall wouldn't want to meet an  _actual_ Grey Warden who might see through his lie. 

Gordon Blackwall. He was a genuinely nice, helpful, and good man. But he was a liar. He didn't bear any sort of taint. I poked and prodded for the twisted sensation time and time again, but the result was always the same. It made me resent the fact that I could even  _feel_ the Blight in other people and items more so; it gave me an unwanted and unrewarded upper hand. The only reason why I hadn't confronted Blackwall about his falsehoods was because I still had hope that he would come forth himself. Or maybe he was afraid that if I didn't know already, I would hate him for whatever reason why he was living a lie. Maybe he overestimated my ruthlessness and underestimated my understanding. But  _I_ was a liar myself--I had been up until few weeks ago. People had suffered because I didn't reveal the truths that I knew. People had died.

And I had a foreboding feeling that in the near future I was going to be forced to reveal that this wasn't just another world to me. That this...this had all been a game. A franchise. 

Ya know that episode of  _Parks & Recreation _where Andy is telling the doctor that even though he wipes and wipes and wipes his butt, poop still keeps coming? Like there wasn't an end to it? Yeah, that was a pretty accurate comparison to all of my secrets and lies. There was no freaking end to it. So much that it was becoming a concern.

Also, I missed watching that show. Recollecting it from memory only went so far.

Actually, in general, I still missed Earth. Thedas was my home, obviously, and I wouldn't leave it willingly...But man, I missed a lot of what Earth had. Mainly the luxuries, but also the movies and television shows. Oh, and definitely the food. The food in  _New York,_ specifically. There were a lot of the little things I would find myself wishing I could enjoy just one more time. Little things such as golden, crispy french fries, pizza dipped in ranch dressing, singing while taking a hot shower, enjoying a spring day in Central Park, sitting on the family boat in the Hamptons, visiting the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Plaza--

The list was endless. I could have continued, but I was at Solas' chamber door and had to put things to rest for a while. Since it was such a "heinously early hour" as Dorian described, it was up to me to wake the companions who would be going on the excursion. I mean, I didn't  _have_ to be the one to wake them up, but I figured they would want to see my beautiful face to start the day off nice. And if not my face, then Bubba's. 

I  _rap-a-tap-tapped_ on the door repeatedly, but I wasn't surprised that there wasn't an answer. Solas was a deep sleeper. It was a pain in the ass to wake him up each morning whenever we were travelling. Fortunately, Solas was also an arrogant mage who set up barriers on his doorknob instead of actually locking it. And guess who could get past magic because  _it didn't affect her?_

Me! I couldn't help but egotistically giggle as my fingers pushed past the barrier and turned the doorknob. The room to those without a degree of nocturnal vision would have seemed completely dark, but to me it was a dim gray. I had never been in Solas' room, before; it was smaller, yes, but still had his own touch to it. Even though the appearance was utilitarian, magic permeated the air from thousands of subconscious spells and casts. Books and old transcripts already covered the table, and painting materials were propped in the corner until Solas was given something to properly store them in. His staff and packs for the trip rested next to the medium-sized wardrobe.

I creepily tip-toed up to Solas' bed. He was sleeping soundly and slightly snoring. "Solassss," I whispered softly. "It's wake-up tiiiime."

He continued to sleep. 

"Solas, wake-up time," I repeated as I leaned down closer. "Soollaaaassssss."

Just like we had to do when we were travelling, the only way to awaken the apostate was to physically jostle him. I took a calm, deep breath, placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on his waist, and... **unleashed the beast.**

 _"Wake-up tiiime!"_ I gurgled in a monster-voice. Solas' eyes flew open and he let out a panicked yelp as he was forcibly removed from his blissful state of slumber and into a world of  _SHAKES._

"A-a-l-l-a-a-r-r-a-a-n-n!" Solas groaned miserably as he was unwillingly jingled and jangled.  _"Fened-his la-sa!"_

"Rude!" I laughed, but deemed his cursing meant he was at an adequate level of  _woke._ I stopped frenziedly shaking him and stood straight. "Good morning sunshine, the earth says hello." That phrase, unsurprisingly, was annoying to people who hated mornings both on Earth and in Thedas. 

Solas gave a long sigh and sat up. He was shirtless and sleepy. I tried to keep down the building fluster. "What time is it?" he inquired groggily as he rubbed the blurriness from his eyes. 

"About four-twenty in the morning," I said with a self-amused smirk. Four-twenty. Ayo. "Bubba is waking up Sera. I'm moving onto Dorian next. If you get your stuff and head on down to the mess hall, a little breakfast bundle is there for you to grab for the ride." I started back-tracking out the door. "See you at the stables, pal."

He only grunted a reply and yawned. "Oh, and Solas?" I called lightly before I was completely out of the room.

"Yes?" he prompted through half-lidded eyes. 

"I'm really happy that you're coming with us," I smiled sincerely. His personage perked up a bit and he smiled back. Before I could ruin the moment and make a complete fool out of myself, I closed the chamber door and jaunted down the hall to Dorian's living quarters. 

If I had fun waking such a heavy sleeper like Solas, I was going to have a complete riot bringing the Tevinter mage forth from his slumber.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late birthday to me by getting this dinky chapter posted. Not only do I love writing about Al and Solas' relationship, but I like writing about her interactions with Hallah. I can't wait to get started on the next chapter (I mean I already have just a tiny bit but yeah) because it's going to be lit. 
> 
> Oh, and if you don't watch Parks and Rec and are somewhat confused and disgusted by the poop reference, watch this clip and hopefully find some humor in it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGCIGEUB32M
> 
> Have some very happy holidays. All of you are lovely and deserve it. <3


	45. Close Encounters of the Grey Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al meets the Warden...s

Crestwood was...

_Interesting._

All of us were chilled to the bone by the time we reached the forward camp because it had rained incessantly for the last two days of travel. And though we had hopes of sitting close to a warm fire and quickly falling asleep at camp, those wishes were dashed as soon as Harding told us just what was happening. The dead had been possessed, there was a rift over the open water, Wardens were scouring the countryside for one of their own, a high dragon was taking up residence in some ruins, and bandits were running rampant. 

So, unsurprisingly, we didn't get to rest. We left the dragon alone--there was no way in hell that I'd be leveled up enough to take that on--but retook Caer Bronach, discovered the unnerving truth behind the flooding of Crestwood's old village, closed the giant rift over the water, and was in charge of rounding up the decomposed and water-logged corpses so they could have a proper burial. Unfortunately, it put us behind schedule by a day and a half. While the others had gone to catch up on a bit of sleep when we were gathering drowned bodies, I stayed awake to oversee everything. I wanted to bring the news of what the Inquisition had done for the dead to the sister herself. Even though I was fighting off fatigue, I would never forget the amount of gratitude that showed on her face when she saw that I had personally returned. Though bolstering the Inquisition's persona was always a plus, I did it because...because I wanted to be a good person? Because I knew it would mean a lot to those who needed that extra bit of closure if they saw me bringing their dead to rest? Something like that.

By the time I made it back to the camp near Three Trout Farm in the middle of the afternoon, somebody donned in a bright red tunic with a crossbow slung over one shoulder was waiting for me. "Hi, Varric," I said after I had dismounted from my horse. The dwarf wrinkled his nose at the stench my nose had become numb to. "How was the travel?"

"Shitty," he sighed woefully. "Garrett has night terrors and Crestwood sucks ass."

I hummed at the information. "I'll give him something for that. And I rather like Crestwood. There are a lot of really pretty wildflowers."

"Maybe you should go roll in a meadow of them, 'cause you smell like death," Varric suggested. "Andraste's ass, what were you doing?"

"Exhuming corpses from a watery grave," I replied with a nonchalant shrug and raised eyebrow. "The mayor of Crestwood drowned his town to stop a case of the Blight from spreading. The Inquisition helped get the bodies of lost loved ones to give them peace."

"And by Inquisition, you mean yourself?"

"Hey, I've smelled worse," I argued mock-defensively, unable to keep a smirk from showing. It faded, though, when I changed the topic of the conversation. "I'm sorry for the wait. Things were just a lot... _more..._ than I expected them to be here."

"Ah, it's okay. They understand. But the seat is getting a little warmer. It feels like Grey Wardens are closing in by the second."

"Because they are. The ones we came across were hunting for Alistair." I pushed my lips to the side as my brows began to furrow. "Things are getting weirder and weirder. And not in the good way, either. So I'm going to wash off in the pond over there and when I get back we'll wake the others up and go to whatever hole everybody is hiding out in."

Varric's eyebrows rose a few inches. "Have you gotten any sleep?"

"Yeah, of course," I scoffed.

"When, exactly?"

"Oh, about two days ago. I've gotten past the extremely exhausted phase and now I'm running on sheer will and adrenaline alone."

"Alaran," Varric groaned. "You can't do that to yourself. You need to sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak," I said proudly. My arms curled up so I could flex my muscles, even though they were hidden underneath the layers of clothing I wore. "And do I look weak to you?"

"You look tired," the dwarf stated flatly.

"Yes, Dad, I know," I grumbled as I let my arms drop. "But I can't do anything about it. At least not right now. And I'm not going to keep Hawke and Warden Theirin waiting any longer than I already have." I took my glasses off and began cleaning them with a spare cloth I stored in my utility belt. "I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing, don't worry."

"Just...eat an apple or something, will ya?"

I had to chuckle warmly over Varric's concern. "Yes, I will. Right after I wash off. In the meantime, socialize. The soldiers need some lightening up; seeing the drowned village kind of brought a lot of them down."

He winked. "My specialty, as you already know. I'll get on it."

"Thanks," I smiled, then went to the tent and quietly got my pack with all of my washing materials and a change of clothes. I had left my armor next to my unused bedroll; I didn't need it during the smelly excursion. Sera was passed out under her own blankets. Usually she would be sprawled out, but she had been so exhausted that upon laying down she stayed in one position. I was going to feel bad waking her up--waking all three of them up, actually. They had done so much in such a short amount of time that they deserved a good rest. Even Bubba was snoring away at Sera's feet. And I was almost positive that they were all sick of being awoken and seeing my pasty, four-eyed face.

Some soldiers volunteered to watch while I bathed. I mean, not watch  _me_ bathe, but watch the surrounding area to make sure my virtue wouldn't be violated by ruffians or thugs while I was indecent. And even if they took a peek or two at my body, they wouldn’t find anything undeniably _sexy_ about it. I was all muscles and scars--a warrior’s body wasn’t soft and supple. Sometimes I wished my breasts were bigger, my scars nonexistent, and my body a bit squishier…then I felt my sick abs, defined biceps, and sculpted butt and changed my attitude right around.

I ground my teeth together as I plunged into the cold water and immediately began scrubbing. If anything, the frigid temperature washed off the feeling of exhaustion for the moment. The stench of death and stagnancy gave way to the comforting, fresh scent of lavender and soap. Fishies grazed against my calves and ankles, but they were kind enough not to nibble. And though the rocks were slick and sharp, I had little feeling on the bottoms of my feet. The nerves had been burned away in the fire. Sometimes, if I thought long enough about it, I could still hear buildings being engulfed by flames and the wails of those who lost everything and everyone they held dear.

My fingers gripped the white hair I was washing for a final time. I felt my face grow stoic and humorless as my memory perfectly recalled the crushing weight of loss following the weeks after the fire. __Thousands__ had perished just because the Empress of Orlais wanted to protect herself from a rumor, from a rebellion birthed from the cries of the oppressed.

I was not a vengeful person. I was riddled with flaws and shortcomings, but seeking revenge had never been my style. Yet as the Inquisition gained power—as __I__ gained power—I couldn’t stop the plotting, the planning, the preparing. Orlais was suffocating on its own civil war, and there was already word that our organization would be brought in to mediate the peace talks between Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons and Empress Celene Valmont at the Winter Palace. Empress Celene, the ruler who committed democide against her people by ordering their slums to be burned down. Empress Celene, the woman who could have inadvertently killed me if my plans for that one night had changed.

Empress Celene, the unfortunate soul who had unwittingly made me her enemy.

-

Everybody was a little bleary-eyed as we approached the cave where the meet-up was supposed to be, myself included. I had taken a stamina potion—which was just a Thedas version of an energy drink, basically—to put a little __oomph__ into my stride, but did nothing to take away the tiredness settling on my eyelids. The weather didn’t help, either; dreary gray clouds had slowly crawled across the fresh blue sky, promising rain in a short while.

“It’s right up there,” Varric said, pointing off to a nondescript cavern off the path and up a hill. Perfect for looters and bandits.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “It looks a little…sketchy.”

“Yes, I’m sure, because I’ve been squatting in it for the past year while we were waiting on you.”

I made a face at Varric and began trudging up the side of the grassy hill alongside him. The other four followed behind wordlessly, too tired to make comments. In all my teenage girl fantasies, I never would have imagined meeting Alistair Theirin half-asleep and just having come from dragging corpses out of the mud. 

And besides...there was somebody else that I thought about a lot.

I glanced over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of Solas, only to find that he was already looking my way. We both shared small, private smiles. Then I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and looked forward again. We had nearly reached the top of the sloping hill, where I saw the Champion waiting for us. He must have come out when we were making the trek and momentarily lost sight of the cave's entrance to the summit of the hill. He appeared as tired as we felt. 

Still, I raised a hand in greeting and picked up my pace so I could give him a hug. "Hiya, Garrett," I said fondly when he was within earshot. 

"Hello, Alaran," Hawke said back with one of his easy smiles. The dark circles under his eyes matched mine. We embraced as best we could between the armor we were both clad in. "It's good to see you."

"And it's good to see you." We let go of one another and I tilted my head back to look up at him. "You look scruffy."

"And you smell like lavender. Maker, did you just bathe?" He patted my hair, which was still a little damp. Golden eyes lit up in amusement. "You did!"

"She was rolling around with dead bodies before coming here," Varric put in as he patted me on the arm. "So she did you a favor."

"Disgusting, and understanding," Hawke shrugged. "I always got the finest goods from corpses."

"You mean trash," Varric corrected. "And let's get going, yeah? I feel like something shitty is going to happen just when we're this close."

"And the sooner we finish this, the sooner I can go back to bed," Dorian added. 

"The Vint's got a point," Sera said as she slouched with her eyes closed. "And it's gonna rain, soon. Don't wanna get drenched."

"Alright, alright, ya whiners, let's get on with it," I drawled. "Hawke, lead the way."

"My lady," he said lowly as he bowed. "Follow me."

We all entered the cave and into its tunnel. Glowing mushrooms cast an eerie blue glow that made me think of the Deep Roads. The thought of  _that_ made my throat involuntarily close. Though I didn't want to seem afraid, the low, shaky breath I took in made it appear otherwise. "I know," Hawke murmured when he heard it. "It brings back bad memories for me, too."

"It's just a tunnel," I whispered mostly to myself. "It's just a fucking tunnel."

My logic still didn't stop the fear. Combined with the absence of sunlight and the smell of earthy minerals, my claustrophobia set in with a vengeance. It was as if I hadn't experienced enough of it yesterday, when we closed the rift under the lake--and under the ground. 

A cold sweat broke out on my hot neck and I got the Shaky Legs. The urge to begin hyperventilating bubbled up in my chest. "You okay, Ally?" Sera questioned from behind me. 

"Obviously," I replied in an octave higher than normal. They had all seen me turn into a quaking ball of butter yesterday; now they were watching to see if I would crumble even though we were in a freaking  _dimly-lit cave._

"Oi, Bunnerbutt, go and comfort your lady," Sera told my hound. A moment later Bubba's large head had placed itself under my gloved hand. It gave me a little reassurance, but fear was fear. And no matter how much I'd tell myself that  _this time I won't be scared,_ the result was always the same. 

"Are you good?" Hawke asked concernedly. "We could always--"

"No," I cut off brusquely. "It's just a stupid fear. Once my focus is redirected I can get a grip on my own effing self."

"Well," the Champion said the tunnel curved. Two lowly-lit torches illuminated the wooden entrance that former bandits had built. "We're here. If you're gonna shit your pants, better squeeze those cheeks."

The absurdity of the statement made me hiss out a laugh. "Alright, I'll try."

He smirked upon seeing my reaction and knocked on the thin, painted door four times. I straightened my shoulders and calmed my face as best I could. "Yeeeees?" somebody with a damningly familiar voice called from the other side. My guarded expression nearly gave way as memories of playing the beloved video game flooded my thoughts. 

"Open up," Hawke said. "I forgot the password."

There was a prolonged sigh before the lock on the door  _clicked_ and slowly pulled back. Hawke gestured for me to enter before him. 

As soon as I slipped past the entrance I met the brown eyes of Warden Alistair Theirin. He gave me a short bow. "Inquisitor Lavellan, I'm assuming?"

"You are correct," I replied easily. The fear slowly began to ebb away as I focused on just how  _real_ he was. Real, and much older. His skin was as tan as it was in-game, but I couldn't tell the exact color of his hair. He was tall and built and wore his Grey Warden uniform like it was his second skin. "And you must be Warden Alistair."

"That I am." 

I walked further into the cavern so everybody else could enter as well. My eyes scanned the space, taking in the abandoned barrels and equipment (and Beefcakes, who was dead-asleep on Hawke's bedroll). Something felt...weird. The taint was flowing through Alistair's veins, of course. I sensed that much. But there was something, someone  _else--_

My body shifted into a semi-defensive stance and my ears flattened against my skull. "Who else is here," I demanded lowly to both Hawke and Alistair. Bubba growled low in his throat and stared behind a stack of dilapidated crates.

Hawke raised his hands in a calming manner and approached me. "Don't worry, it's not what you think. But I _may_ have lied about something at the War Table--" 

I stopped listening to him and instead addressed the person behind the crates. "You can come out of hiding, Warden-Commander. I won't bite. None of us will."

Everybody froze. There was a slight rustling sound before a stout dwarf came around the corner, followed by a gray-muzzled Mabari hound. Tension filled the already warm air as my companions realized just  _who_ was here.

"Holy shite," Sera breathed in awe. "It's...it's  _you."_

Varryn Brosca, the Hero of Ferelden, walked up to us. A brief smile that didn't meet my eyes flashed across my lips. "Apparently my stealth skills aren't as good as they used to be," he spoke as the same kind of smile darted on his own face. While his voice wasn't deep, it was rich and smooth. Hearing him talk made me understand why he could sway even the staunchest of opponents. 

"You may still have some talent left," I assured. "I've known Serah Hawke for so long that when he denied his knowledge on your whereabouts I knew he was lying." I looked to my friend, whose arms were still half-raised from just a few moments ago. "An understandable lie, of course. You're a very sought-after man. Especially by the founders of the Inquisition. Had they known you were here, they would have wanted you taken to Skyhold--even if it meant knocking you unconscious and tied to the saddle of a horse."

Brosca lowly chuckled. "That sounds like Leliana. But I am sorry for the secrecy; things are...very bad, as I am sure you can see." 

"Which is why we're here," I said with a nod. "To sort all this out and see how we can fix it."

"It is an honor to meet all of you," Alistair conversed as he walked over to stand beside Varryn. "I wish it were someplace nicer."

"I actually think the creepy, cultish Maferath statue is nice," I commented, pointing to the creepy, cultish Maferath carving that stood in the middle of the cavern. "I always like it when they depict him with shredded abs."

Varryn's eyes crinkled slightly at my statement as Alistair and Hawke laughed. "Yes, well, he's been nice company," Alistair joked. "But come, let's sit down and figure out how high the odds stacked against us are."

As we settled in and got pleasantries out of the way, I couldn't help but watch Varryn's every movement, every which way he darted his slate gray. It may have just been me being paranoid, but he looked at the group as if he...as if he somehow  _knew_ them. 

When his eyes fell onto me, I didn't let my gaze drop. He was just as observant as I was, so he would find me watching him and Alistair as intently as he was watching everyone else sooner or later. It bothered me that there was something  _different_ about him. It was a sensation I had never encountered before. He was tainted, just like every other Grey Warden, yet I couldn't quite figure out what lie beneath his light brown skin, his trimmed beard, and his head of curly hair. It was off-putting, and I was already on edge about being underground.

"So," I eventually began, "let's talk. Most of you Wardens disappear. Then I have a nice little encounter with Corypheus, who we all thought was already dead, with the way he had a million holes in his body in Vimmark. Even though Hawke filled me in a lot at Skyhold, I was hoping that I'd hear better news from the Wardens themselves."

"I'm afraid you'll find none," Alistair said grimly. "When Hawke killed Corypheus, the Wardens thought the matter resolved. But Archdemons don't die from simple injury. I feared Corypheus might have the same power, so I started to investigate."

"And where was Warden Brosca in all of this?" I inquired. 

"Elsewhere," Varryn replied for himself. "But Alistair managed to contact me about the threat. So I traveled here to meet him, avoiding Clarel's own hunting parties."

"But are you not the Warden-Commander of Ferelden? Surely you shouldn't have to hide from your own Order."

I knew I was impeding on things I shouldn't have been with the way the two men exchanged glances. Varryn let out a short sigh and patted his Mabari before responding. "Recently I've fallen out-of-favor with the Order. My priorities haven't been aligned with theirs for a while, now, and the endeavors I'm currently undertaking nearly split Weisshaupt in two."

"And do these endeavors take precedence over the threat of Corypheus?" I pressed. Varryn grimly nodded. "I don't suppose you can tell us what they are, exactly?"

"I'm searching for a cure to end the taint."

"That is a lost cause," Solas said, though not ignorantly. His expression was grave as he looked upon the Hero. "What is Blighted cannot be undone."

It may have been a flicker of the shadows that the flames sent, but I thought I saw a small sneer crawl up the corner of Varryn's lips before he opened his mouth. "That may be true...in Thedas. Where I am travelling might differ."

My brow arched. "You're going beyond Thedas?"

"Yes. Supposedly to a place where there has never been any known Blight. And if the Calling that every Warden appears to be having doesn't go away even after Corypheus is defeated, then we'll need it more than ever."

While the others shifted at the dark revelation that not only had the Wardens disappeared, but they were all  _hearing_ their approaching deaths, I remained steadfast. It was something I had secretly concluded long ago, much to my own silent horror.

"How do you deal with it? The Calling? You must be hearing it as we speak." My eyes had softened with sincere concern and empathy.

"It's...frightening," Alistair admitted. "The dreams, the song...but I can manage, especially knowing that there's somebody behind it."

"Except the other Wardens don't know that," Dorian said gravely. 

"No, they don't," Varryn affirmed. "Which is why they're panicking. And which is why both our missions are equally crucial."

"You told me about all the bad stuff," Hawke muttered seriously, "but you didn't tell me about...about the  _Calling."_

"It was a secret," Alistair answered somberly. "A very dangerous one. I try to actually keep a few of my oaths to the Wardens."

"How do you know about what the Calling is like?" Varryn asked me. 

"I'm the Inquisitor. It's my job to know things. Even Grey Warden secrets can be unearthed," I replied without skipping a beat. "And...I found a poem in the Fallow Mire that talked about what...what it was like." The words still caused me grief, even after all this time. "But all the Wardens think they're dying."

"And if they're dying, then who will stop the next Blight?" Varryn went on. "That's what has them so terrified--and that's what Corypheus wants."

"And then they do something desperate," Hawke finished. "Which is, of course, what Corypheus wants."

"So the Wardens are planning some final attack on the darkspawn?" I asked, adjusting my glasses out of habit. "Before they all go?"

"We  _saw_ what a Blight did to Ferelden," Alistair said heatedly, fearfully. There was loss in his eyes as he looked to the low fire we were sitting around. Varryn was doing the same, as if staring long enough into the orange-and-yellow light would somehow burn away what they had witnessed. "If Wardens hadn't stopped it, there'd be no more Thedas. Warden-Commander Clarel proposed some drastic things--blood magic and such--to prevent further Blights before we die. I protested, maybe too loudly, and Clarel sent guards, and...well, here I am. Here we are."

"Shit," Varric muttered as everything sunk in, summing up how all of us were feeling.

 _You could have done something to stop this,_ the voice in the back of my head hissed.  _How many have died because you kept your assumptions to yourself? How many more will die?_

"Where are they gathering?" I had to speak, else I get swallowed up in my guilt and self-loathing. "There must be some place."

"The Western Approach," Alistair replied. "At an old Tevinter ritual tower. I'm going to investigate. I could use some help."

"Of course. That's what we're here for." I levelly gazed at Alistair. "You don't have to do this on your own, anymore."

He gave me a thankful nod. I cast my eyes to Varryn. "And you? When will you be departing?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"If you need supplies, the Inquisition will be happy to provide some for your travels. And if you require one, a mount as well."

"Thank you, Inquisitor Lavellan."

After a short pause, I said somewhat warily, "Be careful when you reach the places that are no longer claimed by Thedas. Dangerous things beyond anyone's imagination dwell there."

It was his turn to mildly raise an eyebrow. "Have you been outside of Thedas?"

I gave my head a shake. "No, not really. I've only skirted the bottom of the Frozen Wastes. But some of the things I saw there..." My vision blurred for a moment as I remembered what I had been truly, undeniably horrified by. If I thought a bout of claustrophobia was bad... "Just remember to always light a fire."

"Will do."

The brief silence allowed Sera to bashfully say to Brosca, "I...I saw you. At Denerim. During the battle."

All of our interests became instantly piqued. Sera didn't talk much about her childhood, and especially not about the invasion of the city and the ultimate defeat of the Archdemon. "Oh?" Varryn simply said. Sera shifted uncomfortably and scratched at a pink cheek. 

"Yeah. We were hidden under our beds through the most bit, prayin' that the darkspawn wouldn't burn everythin' or come in and kill us, but they never did. By the time we crawled out and stepped out our doors, it was all over. Heard the blast when the Archdemon was killed, heard the cheers of all the armies...then we saw ya. All of ya, walking down the street, lookin' half-dead and victorious. All that shite." She didn't like all the attention on her and directed her eyes to the dirt floor, where one of her fingers was randomly scribbling in it. "I waved at ya. And you waved back. And after hearing all the stories about Garahel and his focking heroics, it was some hot shit when the Hero of Focking Ferelden took the time to wave."

Varryn's eyes gleamed with humility and his smile was sincere. It was like he'd never be over hearing how many people looked up to him. The expression alone gave me all the more reason to believe that he was every ounce of the hero Thedas thought him to be. A hero not only in action, but in thoughts and emotions. 

I couldn't help but truly admire him. 

Sera's confession turned the rather ominous mood into something more comfortable. Everybody eased into conversations, allowing me to relax a little. It turned out that if one was tired enough, sleepiness could overtake fear. I wound up dozily staring off into nothing--and by nothing I meant Bubs and Brosca's own Mabari. They were having their own secret dog-talk, their noses twitching and ears pointed straight forward. It was cute, really. It would have been better if Beefcakes had joined them, but she had only awoken to join Hawke's side and go back to sleep next to him. I wanted to be her. 

Bubs and Brosca's hound both stilled, looked to Brosca at the same time, then to me. Their intelligent eyes were bright with information I would never know. 

Then their tail stubs began to wag. 

My eyebrows drew together. What were those two saying to each other?

I let my guard down and leaned on Varric's shoulder when I was too tired to care about my appearance. He patted my knee and continued talking with Alistair. 

"Tired?" Varryn asked me amidst the various voices. 

"Very," I smiled. I took my round glasses off and placed them in the inner pocket of my jacket. "It has been a busy couple of days. And the warm fire doesn't help."

"Well, we could always go outside. I'm sure it's raining," Varryn offered teasingly. 

My laugh was low in my throat. "Honestly, though, we should head back to camp to eat some food."

"Food?" Alistair joined in with his signature raised eyebrow. "Or a meal? And one not interrupted by betrayal?"

My own raised eyebrow mirrored his. "A meal, of course. One without betrayal."

"That seals the deal for me," Varryn said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Varryn hungry."

And with that our meeting ended.

Then the shitstorm began.

-

Everything was alright during the first couple of hours after returning to camp. We settled down in our own private quarter of the area and got a pot of stew over a crackling fire. When it began to rain, Solas erected a barrier above us to keep everyone from getting drenched. The ground was perpetually muddy, but we had various logs and small boulders to sit on. Alistair and Varryn were good company; they brought laughs to our group and staved off the tiredness we were all feeling. 

And man, could they  _eat._ I was glad I had found the largest cooking pot to make stew in; by the time everybody was full the entire thing was drained. "Anders never ate this much," I whispered in Hawke's ear. "And he was a Grey Warden, right?"

"Anders had Justice. And Justice changed...everything about him."

I pursed my lips and nodded in agreement. I would have thought longer about our friend, but somebody had flicked a little bit of mud in my face.

Sera sniggered and shook her hand free of the mud. "Lookin' too serious with your serious glasses, yeah."

I slowly turned my head to her and calmly wiped away the mud on my cheek. "Garrett, hold my glasses," I instructed as I took off the spectacles.

"Got 'em."

"You had better run," Dorian suggested to Sera, who was already in a crouching position and waiting for me to attack. "She won't see you if you get far away enough."

"Stop giving her ideas, Dorian," I barked as I stood and started prowling towards the city elf. "She messed with the wrong Inquisitor."

Before Sera could bolt I scooped a handful of mud and launched it at her. She shrieked and dodged so it wouldn't hit her square in the face, and instead caught the top of her shaggy blonde head. The camp was filled with laughter as Sera doubled over and only smeared it around more as she tried shaking it out. 

I began dancing and doing the stanky leg as I sang, "I don't--I don't--I don't give a fuck bitch, I don't--give a--fuck about you or anything that ya do."

The song may have been offensive to anybody else, but Sera thoroughly enjoyed the awful rap song I had shared with her a few days prior. My usage of it in the moment made her cackle loudly.

"At least I'm not a rachet-ass bitch," she shouted back. "I'm gonna give you a ripe kick in the vag."

Our banter would have continued as I moved to sit back down, but I was stopped mid-motion by Varryn's voice.

"What did you just say?" he asked ever-so-softly. Slate gray eyes bore into me. Any ounce of humor that may have been in them moments before was gone. 

"Oh! I'm sorry if we offended you," I apologized. "We can get a little out-of-hand some--"

"No, no," he interrupted with a small wave of his hand. "It's...not that. You were singing. That's from a song. Where did you hear it?"

"Uh..." I croaked as I tried to come up with a lie. It had been so long since I had to cover my tracks. "I just made it up. I make up a lot of weird things."

"Really?" Varryn was piercing my gut with his gaze. "Because the last I was aware, it was Big Sean that made up those lyrics."

My throat instantly dried and electricity locked my limbs. "How...?" I questioned in bafflement. Because that's just what I was: baffled.

"You're not from here, are you?" Varryn continued as he slowly rose to his feet. Alistair followed, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The camp fell into a tense silence, giving way for the sound of rain pattering against the barrier Solas still had erected. The two Wardens made brief eye contact, agreeing on something beyond my comprehension.

"I...no, I'm not." There was a pause as I tried to swallow. "Are you?"

There was a moment where everything was still.

Then, in a blindingly fast movement, Varryn lunged and tackled me. A combination of swear words and exclamations flooded the camp as everybody scrambled to get up-in-arms. I felt the heavy pulse of a templar's purge. There were immediate sounds of retching and groaning. Three powerful mages had been taken out simultaneously. And because Solas had been the one keeping up the barrier, rain started pouring down onto our small, private encampment. We were too far away for any of the soldiers to even _hear_ us. 

As I tried wrestling out of Varryn's grasp, metal clanged against each other as Alistair fought of Varric's twirling daggers that he used in close-quarter combat. "You don't understand!" Alistair bellowed to his friend. "You don't understand!"

The hounds, it seemed, had all ganged up on Sera by  _laying on her._ Not even Bubberston had come to my aid, and instead opted on laying on most of the elf's face so her screams wouldn't be heard. 

Varryn pinned me to the ground a pressed a hand to my windpipe. Panic overtook me for a moment before I gathered my bearings, gave a choked-off roar, and unleashed the freaky strength within my own body in an attempt to thrown him off. 

It only half-worked. Varryn, it seemed, had his own reserve as well. 

_Not good._

Mud flew as we rolled on the ground. An extremely weak spell cast by one of the mages struck Varryn, but it only slid over him--just like it did me.

 _"Stop!"_ I grated through clenched teeth. Through some twisted maneuvers, I finally managed to throw Brosca off me and scrambled up into a defensive stance. Mud weighed everything down. "Dude, what the absolute  _fuck?"_ I demanded breathlessly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alistair punch Varric ruthlessly and send him sprawling.

"The last time we came across somebody from Earth, they wanted to exterminate  _Thedas!"_ Varryn yelled. His voice, which was inherently calm, was terrifyingly ferocious as a shout. Before I could even  _think_ of a reply, he charged at me and pulled a wrestling move straight out of a high school gym. Varryn crouched low to the ground and clasped both my calves with his hands before bursting upwards and taking me with him over one of his shoulders. I couldn't retaliate before the Warden twisted and slammed me into the ground. He didn't let up as my wind was knocked out of me and mud slid between the collar of my coat and neck.

I wheezed, my body refusing to catch up to my mind. My hand managed to find the hilt of my dagger sheathed at my hip. I yanked it out and aimed it at Varryn's ribcage. Unfortunately, he felt the movement and grabbed my wrist. In a ruthless motion he twisted it at the wrong angle. I screamed and dropped the weapon. A fist struck the bone of my eye socket and made me see stars.

I was completely, utterly helpless. Varryn had me at his mercy, and Alistair was dragging a half-conscious Varric to the other side of the camp. Sera was still trying to squirm out from underneath the pile of hounds, and Hawke kept failing to stand. Dorian and Solas were both unconscious.

Some sort of savage noise tore through me as I lost patience and broke into a wild rage. I head-butted Varryn and ripped an arm free to claw at his face. Fingers cut into his tan skin and the casteless tattoo on the side of his face, and his cry of pain fueled my sudden burst of stamina. My hand then gripped his mud-slicked hair and yanked him off to the side. He slipped in the mess and fell face-first into the muck. I staggered upright and kicked him in the stomach. I lost my own footing and fell to a shaking knee. Still, I grabbed Brosca by his hair again and used him to propel myself upright. I then dragged him through the mud and, once we were close enough, threw him against Alistair's knees, whose back had been to us as he dealt with a still-fighting Varric. The other Warden fell backwards. Before he had a chance to stand upright again, I brought a swift, steel-toed boot to his cheekbone. Alistair groaned before going limp.

I turned back to Brosca, who was on all fours now. "Get up!" I seethed in a voice that was hardly my own. "Get the fuck up!"

He did so, regarding me with cold gray eyes through the mixture of blood and mud that covered his face. "What are your plans?" he growled. "Is this some kind of ploy? Have you tricked them all? Hidden what you  _really are?"_

I wanted to attack Varryn again but refrained out of sheer desperation to find answers. "I'm the fucking Inquisitor! I have narcissistic tendencies and am a relentless teaser! And I'm from fucking  _New York City._ They know that. They've known for a while. And my  _plan_ is to put this world back in order and beat the shit out of Corypheus!"

"Who sent you?" Varryn went on, unfazed by my answers. I threw my soiled arms angrily in the air before responding.

"Hallah Lynne? Who else?"

Varryn still didn't budge. If anything, he only grew even more cold. "And how do I know that you're not lying?"

"I don't know! I could call her down here and back me up, but she's such a punk-ass bitch that she probably won't!"

 "She...she speaks...the truth," Solas breathed. During the second half of our brawl, the elf mage had come-to and was currently sitting back on his knees. He leaned to the side, retched, and wiped his mouth before he continued speaking. "Hallah Lynne...Hallah Lynne is Alaran's patron."

"I've seen her," Hawke added as he staggered upright. His golden eyes burned as he glared at Varryn. "She saved Alaran in Kirkwall." One of his hands erupted in flame. "Tell me, friend: will she save you?"

Out of  _everyone_ I had told, Hawke had been the most chill when I told him my origins. He was immediately intrigued and excited to finally learn the truth about me, and only told me that he couldn't wait to try pizza after I had described it to him. That was just one reason among many why I loved who he was.

"Enough," I snapped to everyone. "Hounds! Get off of Sera! Now!"

They heeded my command and clambered off the rogue. She immediately hacked a cough and bolted upright, shouting, "What the  _focking fock?_ Those focking--"

"Stop," I said to her firmly. She did so, mouth still half-open. "Help Dorian." I moved my gaze to Varric, who was picking up the daggers Alistair ultimately disarmed him of. "You okay?" I simply asked.

"My face hurts, but I'll be fine," he answered. 

"Good. Try and wake Alistair, would you?"

"He punched me in the face!" Varric objected.

"And you tried to stab him with daggers. Just do it, please?"

After a grumble, Varric crouched down and began tending to the other Warden. I faced Varryn again and crossed my arms. I didn't have my glasses on, so his figure was a little blurry. "Start explaining this giant crock of shit.  _Now."_

The Warden-Commander looked at me darkly. "You don't know what we've seen," he said. "Why we reacted the way we did."

"No, I don't," I responded bitingly. "So why don't we gather our wounded, sit back down, and try to talk about things instead of randomly attacking." I grumbled loudly and rolled my head as I felt mud slide further down my neck. "For hell's sake, Brosca,  _why?_ If you even  _did_ kill me--and everybody else--where would you have gone? What would you have done?"

"Obviously it wasn't that well thought-out," Varryn barked heatedly. "You've made that much clear."

"I would hope so. I'm pissed right the hell off, douche canoe." I looked down at my completely mud-smothered appearance.  _"Agh._ We'll all freeze to death if we don't get dried off. Solas, are you up to erecting another barrier? Or do you need some time?"

He tilted his head back and regarded the black, rainy sky. "I believe I can manage, if I take a lyrium potion."

Solas' willingness to help despite his ragged state made me want to kiss him, even though I just saw him retch a short while ago. That must have meant something.

"And who the hell listens to  _rap_ music?" Varryn randomly burst, going back to the small snippet of lyrics that started it all. "That's the worst kind of genre!"

He stared at me while everyone else stared at him.

Varryn Brosca, the Hero of Ferelden, wasn't from Thedas.

He was from Earth. Just like me.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody. I hope all of you are staying strong. A lot of rough things have been happening, so I hope all of you find a little enjoyment in this fic. 
> 
> A lot of stuff happened in this chapter! If any of you didn't know where Al was going with the whole "revenge on Empress Celene," read Chapter 26 of "It Was a Long Story" here at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5234606/chapters/17825140 (I don't know how to insert links into words like on Tumblr so I'm sorry about that). It explains things more clearly. 
> 
> And you finally get to meet Alistair! And Varryn! My boys. I've honestly been dying for you to meet the Hero of Ferelden. And yes, I do think it's funny that a fight broke out because Alaran sang one of the dumber rap songs out there...I would know this because I've been trying to get it out of my head for the past two days after writing the scene. And if you don't know the song, it's literally called "I Don't Fuck With You" by Big Sean.
> 
> Oh, and in case you didn't really get the whole interaction between Bubba and Brosca's Mabari, they had disclosed where both of their masters came from, only to find out that they originated from the same place. Beefcakes was informed shortly afterwards. 
> 
> Stay lovely, stay strong


	46. Bonding Time, Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets to know Warden Brosca better

 

Barriers were cast over the small camp, mud-covered armor and clothes were hung up to dry on makeshift clothing line strung between tents, and various potions were distributed to heal our bruises and cuts.

I repositioned my ass for the millionth time on the log I was sitting on. Damp splinters dug into my cheeks, making me even grumpier. So I wouldn't be a complete harpy within the next thirty seconds, I stood up and walked to Sera's and my tent to grab a spare blanket to put between my buns and the wood. 

Everybody else was as dressed-down as I was. Why don't we just change into a dry pair of clothes, you ask? Well, sweet summer children, remember how we were set behind schedule because of the prior problems Crestwood had? And being pushed back by a couple of days means that we wear different sets of clothes when the others get dirty. It may have not been so bad just wearing clothes from a couple days ago, but travel hadn't been kind to our outerwear. If we wanted to preserve the clothing we had left, we'd have to get by for a night wearing nothing but our knickers. It was completely inconvenient, especially for the Inquisitor and her companions, yet there we were. In our skivvies. 

Varryn and Alistair were worse off than we were. They had their one and only Grey Warden uniforms to wear, and though they were made from a resilient material that wicked away outside substances, have enough mud and anything was bound to get dirty. 

We all sat around the campfire, blankets under us and thrown over our shoulders, trying to avoid eye contact and glare at each other at the same time. Even though we had all seen each other in our underwear at some point or another, we had never just sat around  _in_ them. Fortunately for me, at least, I had grown accustomed to situations where I was given little privacy. Bodies were bodies, and definitely in this circumstance there wasn't anybody that was going to be blushing or swooning after glimpsing the bare skin of others.

The Wardens and Hawke opted out of wrapping themselves in blankets. Garrett's body had changed little over the years, save for a few extra scars that hadn't been there previously. Alistair was thick and sturdily built, and Varryn was muscle stacked on muscle. The Hero's casteless tattoos actually trailed down to his shoulder, and a vertical scar the same width of a sword marked the center of his chest. 

My saturated violet eyes met his slate gray ones. Head tilting, I asked over the crackle of the fire, "Is that how you got to stay here? That?" I pointed to the same area on my chest, right below the binding I was wearing to strap down my mediocre breasts. 

Varryn looked down at the scar and prodded it with calloused, thick fingers. "Oh...yeah. We were overrun by darkspawn when one just uh, got me. They all thought I was dead. I thought I was dead. But Hallah Lynne, had, well, set it all up. My meeting. With...It." He regarded the scar on my neck. "You?"

Fingers ghosted across the jagged line on my throat. "A lot of things, but mostly cancer. Turns out if you’re here long enough before being woven into this world cancer can come back. I think I was supposed to die after closing the Breach, but Hallah postponed it until Haven was buried." I gave my head a shake. "We'll compare our own personal experiences later,  _after_ you explain to us just why you tried to kill me  _again."_

"As you should have done in the first place, in my personal opinion," Dorian commented as he continued to shake off flecks of mud from his hair. "It was all very unnecessary, the magic purge, the attempted murder. We could have been doing what we are now, except with all of our clothes on."

Alistair looked down at Brosca's Mabari, who was actually called Ron Barkson. The fact that Varryn had named him the parody of one of my favorite television characters gave me hope that he was still a good guy...and be a little envious that I hadn't thought of that name in the first place. "And you!" Alistair reprimanded the seasoned hound, who only gazed up at him unhurriedly. "Where were you in all of this?"

"On top of me!" Sera answered with a scrunched-up face.  _"All_ of them."

"Bubberston and Ron were talking to each other in the cave," I recalled. "They must have exchanged where both Brosca and I came from. In any case, they handled it better than we did. And stopped Sera from shooting the Wardens before everything got sorted out."

"Yeah, well, they're  _fat_ and  _furry,"_ she grumbled as she pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Moving on," I said wryly, looking back to the two Wardens. "You told me that the last time there was somebody from Earth they tried to...what, destroy Thedas? How? And why?"

The sudden change of mood between the two men was enough to bring a heaviness to the air. Varryn took a breath as he gathered his thoughts before speaking. "There was. We had been traveling from the Temple of Sacred Ashes to Redcliffe when we came across her." His eyes deepened with sadness and a pained smile appeared. "She was...she was cool, to say the least. I still had some of my country accent back then, so she recognized it almost immediately and confessed that she was from Belgium. I, of course, convinced our group to take her on. By then they had all been informed of where I actually came from. That, combined with the automatic trust placed in her, made everyone okay with bringing her in. When I asked her questions about who sent her and the like, she told me that it was Hallah Lynne who delivered her—and that she was supposed to find me. Beyond that, she knew little."

"But it was all a lie," Alistair muttered bitterly. Hurt had crawled its way into the bastard prince's rich brown eyes. "It was all a bloody lie."

Varryn nodded gravely. "I'll save you the details of her betrayal. It...cut us all very deeply. But to make the long and painful story short: we found out that she...that she had been gifted with the ability to control Blighted things. She was working for the enemy—for the Archdemon. It had been her mission to slowly take control of Alistair and me, to leech her way into our minds and break them so she could have full power over everything we did. Then she would tear any efforts to stop the Fifth Blight from the inside out." His voice was soft, now, just barely above a whisper. The low level almost hid the slight tremble in his speech. "Marguerite had been promised that she could conquer this weak land and rule Desolation itself, then rebuild it to her heart's desire." Varryn's tone turned hard and his gray eyes darkened. "She had believed she could do it so much that she didn’t think she was dying, even as I put a final arrow between her eyes."

I realized that my fists had twisted the edges of the blanket that covered me. It was hard to loosen them. When I found no appropriate way to offer condolences, I said the first question that had been in my mind the moment Varryn began describing this Otherworlder's true intents. "Why didn't Hallah Lynne put an end to all of it?"

"Because Hallah Lynne hadn't been the one who sent her."

The fire continued to blaze loudly as we were struck silent for several seconds. My gut soured as I processed the information. When I was able to speak again, my voice was weak and scratchy. "Then who did?"

Varryn rubbed his eyes and breathed in. The memory had taken a visibly emotional toll on the two Wardens, for they were ashen and solemn. "Hallah has enemies. She has enemies here, she has enemies on Earth, she has enemies on every world and dimension. The second she opens her mouth you realize that. But she also has enemies that are just as powerful as she is...and much more demented. They like to play games with her--and use us as pieces of that game. She does have a limit, you know. And she can't touch those who are tied to her enemies."

"I...I don't understand, though," I said slowly as my gaze dropped to stare vacantly at the fire. "Why would...why would an enemy of Hallah  _use_ somebody from a different world? From Earth? Why not just give somebody that sort of power who's already here? I know there are people with the same type of ambition and evilness inside them."

"Those born into this Pattern are woven into it a specific way." Varryn replied like he had been given the same answer to the same question in the past. "Their path can be altered, yes, and it can even be completely destroyed or take an entirely different route, if pressed hard enough. But giving them abilities that aren't even supposed to  _exist_ here on a molecular level? The Universe won't technically allow it. So instead people like us are taken from our home planets and given gifts that nobody here should have."

"But what about on our own world? I shouldn't be able to have the abilities I do even on Earth."

Varryn scratched his beard as let out a short sight. "It's...it's hard to explain. Hallah did it a lot easier--and by easier I mean she explained things so abstractly that I somehow managed to get it."

"Why isn't she here right now? This is her kind of deal, isn't it?" I prompted. "She even told me that you'd punch my face and apologized on your behalf."

Varryn looked up at the dark, cloudy night sky like he could see something nobody else could. "She's probably out with her husband. He takes precedence over all of us. And if she's not here by now, then it most likely means that she wants us to hash it out ourselves."

I was still reeling over the first thing Varryn had said. "Whoa, whoa,  _wait,"_ I said quickly, "Hallah has a  _husband?"_

"You didn't know that?" Varryn asked back.

I shook my head repeatedly. "Nuh uh." After making a stunned turtle-frown, I waved my hands in front of me and said, "Okay, we—we'll put a pin in that for later. Um, where were we?"

"Explaining why we're able to have gifts that we shouldn't have on either worlds?" Varryn prompted. "Yeah, so..." he grumbled and murmured to himself, "shit, where do I begin?"

"Just start talking and I'm sure I'll get it.”

I was given a somewhat judgmental look at my statement, but elected to ignore it. "Okay…well, of course we shouldn't be able to do what we can here--and where we came from. But when we don't have the same type of Weaving as those in Thedas do, we're...malleable. And we can stay in that state until we become set in the Universe again. That's...that's the best I can describe it without confusing even myself."

I hummed in my throat. "I get it. Or at least I'm pretty sure that I do. So not only can Hallah take people like us and send them here, but...others can, too."

The Warden nodded grimly. "Yeah. They do that because they can't touch us, just like Hallah can't touch their own people. So we're left to battle one another ourselves."

"That's extremely frightening," I said quietly. "Extremely."

"Yeah, it is. But Hallah is a good lady. She won't abandon you. And she won't let them win, either."

Varryn's promise brought an end to the rather dumbfounding conversation. I was so tired that describing myself as exhausted should be put in italics: I was  _exhausted._ So much had happened just in one day. If I wasn't the effing Inquisitor and handled stuff like this all the time I would have been a complete and utter mess. 

"Oh, fuck me," I mumbled as I pushed my glasses up to the top of my mud-crusted head so I could cover my eyes with cold hands. "I need to go to bed."

"We all do," Hawke agreed. "Let's worry about more earth-shattering revelations tomorrow."

So, somberly and wordlessly, we all retired to our bed rolls to get a few hours of uneasy sleep.

-

The time that I slept, it seemed, felt like I had closed my eyes for five minutes before I was awakened by the sound of people conversing outside and the smell of breakfast cooking.

I bolted upright and somehow got a tunic, trousers, socks, boots, and glasses on at the same time. When I burst through the tent flap, I was horrified by the sight I saw.

Not only was the sun three quarters past the horizon, but everyone else--and I mean  _everyone--_ was up, dressed, and ready for the day. Heads all turned to me after the commotion I had just made.

"What the  _hell?"_ I demanded angrily. "Why didn't anyone wake me?"

"You needed sleep, Al," Varric explained with infinite patience. "Maker knows you haven't slept in for the past five and a half years."

"For good reason," I snapped as I stomped over. "I've just lost at least four hours of the day. You know how much I could have done with that time?"

"Important stuff, I'm sure," he replied unsympathetically. 

"Eggs and sausage?" Alistair offered as he held out a bowl with the breakfast food in it. I glared at him and snatched it out of his hands. He outwardly cringed, but couldn't help but smile at my dour mood.

"I hate all of you," I grumbled as I sat down and began stuffing my face with eggs.  _"Hate."_

"But you feel well-rested, don't you?" Garrett asked with a smirk I wanted to slap off his face.

"I  _feel_ like stabbing a bitch," I retorted.

Varryn nearly snorted the sausage link he had been eating. His reaction made me begrudgingly smile myself, but after a few moments I hid it with a forced frown.

Our plans for the day consisted primarily of travel. The soldiers that were stationed in the area had everything under control, especially with Caer Bronach under the Inquisition's banner. Alistair and Hawke would be going to the Western Approach and staking things out. We would follow within the week. Both them and Varryn would travel with us for the first day and a half and leave when our directions diverged. While we continued to head south and loop down Lake Calenhad to attend to some sudden business in Redcliffe, the two Wardens and the Champion would sneak east. I knew Hawke and Alistair would stop at Skyhold to gather supplies and deliver information, Varryn’s plans eluded me. The only thing he made clear was that he would not be going to the Western Approach to investigate the Warden disappearances.

So until then, Brosca and I had much to discuss between ourselves.

I believed that everyone sensed the wanted privacy between us Otherworlders and hung back on their mounts while we rode further ahead than the rest. It was mildly surprising to see how comfortably Varryn sat in the saddle; not many people were well-practiced at riding. Mounts were expensive, and many of the people I traveled with nowadays either didn’t have enough money or were so pampered that they got wagons of their own. I remembered Varryn mentioning that he used to have a country accent during the Blight. With that in mind I began posing questions.

“So, where were you from?” I asked him as I glanced his way sidelong. “I’m guessing America at least, yeah?”

“That’s right,” Varryn answered without looking back at me. “I’m from Cody, Wyoming. Or, at least thirty minutes from Cody. I lived on a ranch.”

“Really? That’s neat. I’ve never been to Wyoming, but I always wanted to visit Yellowstone.”

“It’s beautiful,” Varryn said with a wistful smile. “And you? You’re from New York City?”

“Yes, sir. Manhattan.”

He lowly whistled before chuckling. “Wow,” he drawled, “somebody was a rich girl.”

“What can I say, I was born into a life of luxury,” I smirked playfully. “So you can imagine how disgruntled I was when I had to adjust to living in an alienage.”

“I think we can both sympathize with the other about how we had to adjust to this place,” Varryn almost laughed. “So how long have you been here?”

“Technically I’ve been here for almost twelve years? I think? That sounds about right.”

“Really? That long?”

I sucked in a breath between my teeth. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I feel pretty old. But, ah, about six of those years were spent in...in the Fade.”

Varryn only displayed more interest. “You’re going to explain how that happened, right?”

“It depends,” I said, taking on a note of caution. “I want to tell you about my whole experience, but you have to answer one thing, first.”

“And that is?”

I chewed carefully on my words before I spoke. Finally, through all the elaboration and smoke screens I wanted to put up, I simply asked, “Did you play this as a video game prior to being sent here?”

Varryn and I directly looked at each other. His eyes shown the truth before he could even say anything. “Yeah,” he said with a lowered voice. “I did. And you?”

“Just the first two. I had made my first character—which is the body I have now—when I wound up in the middle of Kirkwall. But _Inquisition_ had been out long enough by then that I had a grasp of what the plot was…and what the ending is going to be like.”

“So you know who caused it all? Who gave Corypheus the power to do what he did?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Solas.” Neither of us could help shifting in our saddles and glancing back at the unassuming elf. He saw us staring and slightly raised his brows. I, in turn, gave a small wave. When we turned straightforward I continued. “Which brings me back to my whole Fade Adventure. You ready to hear a funny story?”

“Shoot.”

Within seven minutes I set a backdrop of how I became close with Hawke and Company, the reason why I found myself in the Deep Roads, how I made the deal with Bod, what I did in the Fade, and who I encountered. “You have more of the story than anyone,” I finished. “Nobody knows about Solas, because that would mean giving away his identity. Even then I knew what he was going to do, and I tried urging him not to without explicitly revealing my knowledge. Still, though, I only saw him again after the Conclave explosion.”

“Did you know you were going to be the Herald?” Varryn asked neutrally.

I scoffed. “No. The only reason I was there was because Varric had sent me an S.O.S. right before he was kidnapped by Cassandra. I knew something was bound to happen there, but I had no idea it was that specific event.” My gaze softened and my lips pulled downwards. “Varryn, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he responded kindly when he could have made a sarcastic remark like I would have.

“You…played all three games, right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you make real-life choices based on your knowledge of the game, or did you try and change things? Or did you just do what you thought was best and disregarded the storylines entirely?”

Varryn pushed his lips to the side for a few seconds. “Honestly? It was a bit of everything. I made the choices I did because I knew the outcome, but I knew the outcome because I wanted to be a good person even in-game. Even then, though, nothing was clear-cut. No matter what I did there were always repercussions. People still died, people were still resentful, systems were still broken…but I knew what was at stake. What was it that Iron Bull said? I don’t know if he ever told you in real life, but in the game you can talk to him about who should lead the Inquisition—this is pre-Skyhold, of course. And he says something along the lines that a leader is somebody who can make tough decisions—”

“And live with them,” I ended. “I remember the conversation.”

“Exactly. We’re in the positions we are now because we can do that. And I know what you’re thinking. What you’re dealing with.” Varryn reached over and touched my knee for a few seconds. The warmth in his fingers bled through my trousers and heated my skin. When I turned my head to him, I saw slate gray eyes regarding me with compassion and understanding. “I’ve learned over and over that even if you know every possible outcome and consequence of every situation and conversation, the same will still happen.” Varryn tilted his head up to the overcast sky. “I tried saving Duncan, I tried saving Leske, I tried saving Anders from Justice, I tried—” he cut himself off and looked down at the reins he was holding. “There’s no use wallowing in your own guilt about the things you still couldn’t stop even if you knew they were going to happen. Nothing good will ever come from it. You change what you can, and the rest is…set. Fixed.”

“But what about the things I didn’t even _try_ to stop?” I questioned with more emotion than I was intending to let out. My voice had risen enough that I glanced over my shoulder to make sure nobody had heard. After scanning all of their idle faces I went back to the conversation. “I didn’t try to do anything to stop Hawke’s mother from getting murdered. I didn’t say anything before Fenris killed his own _sister_ because she had betrayed him. I didn’t even try and _talk_ with Anders about what…about what he was going to do. I didn’t do anything about _this—_ I could have ended Corypheus when he inhabited Larius’ body at Vimmark, I could have told everyone that Lord Seeker Lucius was really a demon, I could have _killed_ Solas, I could have helped the Wardens because I _knew_ that they had somehow—”

“Alaran,” Varryn spoke firmly, stopping me from rambling into insanity. “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. Everything that you listed? Everything that is eating you alive? I could have tried to do the exact same thing _and then some,_ because I know more about what’s to come than you do. But can I?”

“It’s not like that,” I tried to argue, but it was weak.

“Isn’t it, though? I’ve played all three games multiple times, I knew what Anders was going to do, I knew what was going to happen at the Conclave, I knew what would tear the Order I’ve devoted my life to from the inside out. But you are not in charge of stopping every single bad thing from happening here. Doing that would also put a stop to all the brave and good things to come after. I wish it didn’t have to be like that—letting the horrible occur for better things to pass—but that’s the way of gods. That’s the way of the Universe.

“And let’s say that you did manage to stop Corypheus at Vimmark, that you stopped _everything_ that you wanted to and altered it for the better, okay? Then what?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered, frustration edging my voice. “But it could have been better than…this.”

“You know what I think?” Varryn went on, his voice so kind and sincere that it made me want to cry. “Bad things would still happen. Devastating, _shattering_ things that would rock Thedas to its core as much as the events that are happening currently. Because it’s _meant_ to happen. But you— _you_ have the chance to steer the ship through the storm, to actually take the evil and use its momentum to change Thedas for the better.  And as far as I can tell, you’re doing a fantastic job. So don’t let what you couldn’t have changed anyways drag you down.”

I hurriedly flicked away a small amount of water before it could spill over the lower rim of my eyelid. A sudden thought came to me and produced a short laugh. “If I’m tearing myself to shreds over these few events, I can’t imagine how Hallah must feel.”

“I don’t want to imagine,” Varryn concurred. “So you spoke to her before coming here?”

“Yeah. She’s, uh, Skyhold’s resident therapist. Or, at least I asked her to help people.”

“She’s quite good at doing that, for sure,” he agreed. “Cole’s methods are great, too, but they’re still…”

“A little too spirity?” I prompted.

“Exactly.”

When I glanced at Varryn this time my eyes had sparked with light-hearted intrigue. “So what was it like, seeing everyone from _Inquisition_ in person? Wait, actually, let me rephrase that: what was it like meeting everyone from the _Dragon Age_ games?”

Varryn’s sudden laugh was boyish and bubbly, which, in turn, made me laugh myself. “It was _amazing,”_ he gushed. “And it still is!”

“For real, though!” I agreed as I grinned. “I don’t think I’ll ever be completely uncaring whenever I meet somebody new.”

He turned his whole upper body sideways to me. Slate gray eyes gleamed with mischief. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

“So, the name that I have now? Not my real one, right? Just like how Alaran isn’t your real name?”

“Right.”

He bit his lip as if he was going to tell me the funniest thing in the world. “I actually just mashed together _that_ Varric’s name—” he gestured to the roguish dwarf behind him— “with the automatic name a male casteless dwarf is given. And it was originally spelled with an _e-n_ at the end, but I misspelled it when I was learning how to write—”

“Because the Y’s and E’s look so similar in this language!” I proclaimed.

“Yes! But I was too embarrassed to change it, so I kept it that way.”

I threw my head back and laughed alongside him. It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was, but the relatability was so great that I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh,” Varryn breathed through his giggles, “you don’t know how _long_ I’ve waited to tell somebody that who actually got it.”

“Oh my gosh, dude,” I gushed rapidly. A hand lashed out and gripped his thick arm. I looked at him intensely. “Who the hell is your love interest?”

Varryn’s light-hearted attitude faded and his expression became more mature again. “Ah, I see,” I said before he could tell me, “it was Morrigan, wasn’t it?”

“The Witch of the Wilds stole my heart,” he confirmed. “It’s funny…I never romanced her in the game because, well, she leaves in the end, ya know?”

“I know.”

“So I—ugh, it’s so weird talking about it out loud—I always romanced Leliana or Zevran. But we just…I don’t know. She understood me. And I understood her.” Varryn scratched his beard out of habit. “I miss her every minute of every day.”

“Did you two have a child?” I asked calmly. He hesitated a moment before nodding.

“Yeah.” Varryn smiled, but it wasn’t exactly happy. His expression broke my heart a little. “We had an Old God baby, as the game put it. But Kieran is much more than that. He’s my son. He’s her son.”

“I’m assuming that you went with her through the Eluvian.”

“You assume correctly.”

“Do the others know? About him?”

“Maker, no. But they will soon enough. Or at least Leliana will.” Varryn sighed again. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but…Morrigan and Kieran are going to find themselves at Skyhold. With the Inquisition. I’m not going to say how or why, but when they do arrive…”

“I’ll make sure they’re protected,” I promised, then added with a small smile, “though I don’t think Morrigan needs much protecting.”

The statement brought a little light back into Varryn’s demeanor. “No, she doesn’t. But she needs more than she lets on.”

“As do we all.”

“And you? Who’s your love interest?”

I snorted. “You can probably guess,” I said sardonically.

Varryn laughed again. “He likes you too. That’s no secret.” He paused before adding, “Though, I’d watch out what Hawke has planned for Solas. I overheard him talking with Varric about… _testing…_ his worthiness. And I don’t know Garrett that well, but I can gather that he has little boundaries when it comes to his friends’ personal lives.”

I rolled my head back and groaned. “He really doesn’t,” I croaked. “But thanks for telling me. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out.”

“Well, I wish you two the best of luck. If there’s any course that you can change, I believe the most important is his. And just from knowing you for a day gives me a strong impression that you just might be able to.”

Varryn’s positivity made me puff my chest out a little. “Thank you,” I smiled. A second later I gave my head a bird-like tilt and opened my mouth to ask yet another question when we were interrupted by a loud belch coming from behind. Both of us looked around to see Sera cackling madly as Hawke and Alistair tried to out-burp each other. The ridiculous sight was worthy enough to draw when I had time to sketch it out. Dorian made eye contact with me and silently pleaded for his death. Solas had receded to his own world, and Varric was reading while riding.

“I’d say that they never grew up,” I admitted dryly as I adjusted back into my saddle, “but they’ve all had to grow up so fast that I think they deserve to be childish.”

“We all do,” Varryn said as he did the same. “What’s the point of growing up if we don’t?”

“Nice,” I drawled. “Doctor Who quote.”

“You looked like you were going to ask me a question before we got distracted by that inhuman noise. What was it?”

“Oh! Right. Sorry, this is the last _major_ one I think,” I hurriedly said. “But what was your name back on Earth?”

“Connor McPherson.”

I was dead silent for a few seconds as my brain worked to remember where I had heard that name before. Then I let go of my reins to throw my hands straight in the air as I screamed, “HOLY SHIT! I think I knew you on Earth!”

 _“What?_ How?”

My arms were already moving as I excitedly began to explain. “Well, I mean, we never _met_ each other, but you were Conner McPherson! The former National FFA Vice President, weren’t you?”

His jaw dropped. “Y-yeah! Holy cow, how did you—”

“Eidetic memory!” I screeched. “I watched your retiring address about ten times and even _quoted_ it in my valedictorian speech! You were amazing! I mean, I was never in FFA or anything, but just the fucking fact that I _know_ who you were!” I sucked in an unholy breath. “Dude, the way you **died** …I’m so sorry, bro.”

“Trapped in a tractor and burned alive?” Varryn said while he simultaneously breathed in. “Yeah, not the best way to go, am I right?”

“They did a piece on you on Good Morning America,” I continued rapidly. “I watched it while I was going through one of my first rounds of chemo. It was a bummer.”

“Well what was your name? Maybe I knew you,” Varryn said in a joking manner. Because the notion of us both knowing each other in some indirect way was absurd.

“Annabelle Hughes,” I said. Varryn’s smile froze on his face and I rolled my head back in disbelief. “No. _No.”_

He slapped his hands together and loudly hooted. “Annabelle Hughes!” Varryn exclaimed for the entire countryside to hear. A little of his Western twang came back into his voice. “The 2014 winner of the Original Oratory event at the National Speech and Debate Competition! W-we played your video for some of our leadership workshops!”

I nearly fell out of my saddle. “Dude!” I screeched.

“Dude!” Varryn screeched back.

“Dude!” Sera yelled sarcastically from the back. “Shut it up there, will ya?”

“You two alright?” Varric called. I twisted in my saddle to look at him. My whole body exuded gleefulness.

“We knew who the other was back on Earth!” Varryn raised his hand, which I promptly hit with my own. “We’re awesome!”

“Who’s Annabelle?” Hawke questioned loudly.

“Meeeeeee!” I crowed unashamedly. “But I go by Alaran now. It’s a much better name, in my honest opinion.”

“It’s a small world after all,” Varryn beamed, his grin youthful and charismatic.

 _“Worlds,”_ I corrected with a much less attractive grin. It earned a wink from him.

“Yeah, worlds.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallah is a duckling compared to some of her enemies.
> 
> Also, if any of you read both "Wait, What?" and "Hold On a Second" before reading this, you might notice a few things I changed. I was unsatisfied with my choice to pair Varryn and Leliana together, as well as Kieran being nonexistent. Yet another reason why I love this fic. I can change what I wasn't happy with to something hopefully better. 
> 
> And for all of my readers to have no idea what the heck FFA is, it stands for Future Farmers of America and is one of the biggest school organizations in the United States. Lots of great people who are like Varryn come from it, and I wanted to pay homage to one of my favorite clubs when I was in high school (I'm from Idaho, so what did you expect?). And no, it's not just about farming. It's about leadership and stuff and yeah I'm going to stop typing now.


	47. Bonding Time, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets a bit of action

Varryn and I bonded for the rest of the day. There wouldn’t be enough time for us to share what we wanted before he had to leave, but by the time we decided to make camp in an area safely covered by the Inquisition we knew more things about each other than many ever would. He had awoken on the streets of Orzammar, casteless and confused. Unlike in the game, he had no sister, no family, no allies. For the first couple of days he staggered around, trying to comprehend where he was. When Varryn finally realized that it wasn’t a dream and he wasn’t going home anytime soon, the dwarf named Leske approached him. Varryn took the opportunity and was drafted into the Carta, where he worked for about six months until his origin story technically began. During his rise as the Hero of Ferelden he learned the ranger specialization and, once Awakening began, he picked up a few scouting techniques from Sigrun. After the events of the Blight and the fall of Kirkwall he knew Leliana and Cassandra would be looking for him, so he and Alistair made themselves, disappear. They soon separated for safety’s sake and started their own paths, but Varryn resurfaced after news of the Conclave’s explosion had spread. Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and he managed to receive word from his old friend Alistair that he was continuing his investigation on the Wardens with Hawke and could use some of his help. Recognizing the set-up as well as the undeniable concern, Varryn joined up with them and wound up meeting me and everyone else.

He missed his home in the Wyoming countryside, where autumns were stunning, winters harsh, and the landscape never-ending. He missed his mother, father, younger sister, and two twin brothers. He told me that he used to do everything with his family; the ranch was run by their combined efforts, they took almost weekly trips to go skiing in the mountains during the winter, and at one point he and his siblings attended the same high school all at once. His parents were at every concert, every game, every competition. Their family bond was strengthened through their faithfulness to their Christianity. Varryn would give his life if he could have just one more night with them, all gathered around the dinner table and eating some of his mother’s heart attack chicken with double-baked potatoes and a glass of milk. He still remembered their faces, fortunately, though he’d forgotten the smell of his mom’s perfume, his dad’s cologne, and the way his siblings laughed. He was afraid of forgetting them entirely.

Among lighter things, Varryn missed the food, country music, his pickup truck, and being able to shower every day. He liked going skiing, snowmobiling, bowhunting, fly fishing, and doing anything outdoorsy. He could still enjoy hunting with the bow he had now, but there was just something about using the same arrows to kill animals and humans alike that slightly perturbed him. Not only had he been in FFA, but he was also in his high school’s band and knew how to play the trumpet and trombone. He hadn’t been in any plays, but he enjoyed them and actively watched the ones the community and schools put on. Varryn somewhat smugly informed me that he knew all the songs to _Les Miserables._ I jokingly told him that we’d have to sing a duet before he left.

In turn, Varryn learned that I had an egotistical father who was abusive when he drank, and a mother who was high on pills between fundraising luncheons and shopping. My parents were basically textbook rich people whose lives were void of happiness. Varryn didn’t like it when I told him a few stories about my life with them. He liked Sophia, though, and understood why it was her who I saw when I became set in the Universe. He saw his own mom when he had his turn years and years ago. He was also a little…taken aback at my vast array of talents. I told him that I only had so many was because of my privilege and the pressure put on me by my parents to be the best at everything. The only real thing I was good at was leading and music. I freaking loved music. Varryn asked me what my favorite instruments were, and I said the violin, piano, and guitar. He then followed up with a question that I hadn’t ever been asked here. _And how many instruments can you play in total?_

 _Well,_ I had replied, _I **could** play about a dozen or so on Earth, but I’m not sure about now._

It was true. I focused on my three, but I could play the trumpet and trombone as well, and the saxophone, and the flute, clarinet, drums, tuba, viola, cello, and harmonica. I didn’t count my voice as an exact instrument, or being able to play the ukulele. Anybody could play the uke.

It was Alistair who was the first to join in on our conversation. I was talking animatedly with Varryn while we were simultaneously skinning rabbits for dinner when he raised a hand like a schoolboy and loudly said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a question for you, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

“You can call me Alaran, ya know,” I smiled as I began gutting the hare. “And yes?”

“From what I’ve gathered, you’re quite the singer,” he drawled. “And Varryn is too. Does every person on Earth love this so-called _country music_ as much as he does? Only the Maker knows how many times I’ve heard him sing them while he’s bathing. They’re actually quite catchy, if I may say so myself.”

I tossed my head back and laughed as Varryn chucked rabbit guts at his longtime friend. For somebody who probably swam through darkspawn innards, Alistair made an unholy squeal as small intestines landed with a _squelch_ on his lap. He slapped the organs off and sent them sailing into the fire.

Everybody else was laughing by then, too. When it had calmed down—when _Alistair_ had calmed down—I answered his question. “No, I’m not particularly fond of country music. But it’s still a popular genre, though I suppose if you go outside of North America it might be nonexistent. Or at least less-listened to.”

“Good thing the United States is pretty big, then,” Varryn commented, and even though we were talking about North America in its entirety, he began to chant, “A-mer-i-ca, A-mer-i-ca!”

And, as I was a fellow American, it had been coded into my DNA to automatically chant with him. We pumped our fists in the air with each syllable until the two of us were satisfied. After a short explanation of how those born in the United States had to express their patriotism in a visible display, the conversation returned to country music.

“Now you’ve got me interested,” Hawke put in. His golden eyes practically gleamed in the firelight. “Do you know what I think you two should do? Sing! I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of your conversation earlier today about doing a duet. And Alaran, my sweet Alaran, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve heard that melodious voice of yours?”

What he heard in response, though, was a giant sigh from me. “A duet? Yes. A duet of a country song? That’s probably not going to happen. I don’t think I know any. My rich girl ears couldn’t deign to listen to Brad Paisley and Carrie Underpants.”

“Oh come on, I think that’s baloney,” Varryn argued as he speared the rabbit carcass onto a cooking stick. I handed him the one I had so he could add it on and put both over the fire. “You were going _on and on_ about how you can remember basically everything—”

“I didn’t go _on and on—”_

“So you have to have some hit song rattling around in that head of yours.”

“The thing is, though, I didn’t _want_ country music taking up precious space,” I countered, “so I actively avoided listening to anything.”

Varryn gave me a flat look. I gave him a mocking one back. “Alaran.”

“That’s me.”

“Come on,” he said in a poor New Yorker accent, changing the _o_ sound to a flat _a_ sound.

“Come on,” I returned in a horrible western twang.

“You’ve got to know at least _one_ song.”

I began rinsing my hands with a nearby water skin and thought about it for a little while. Eventually a few crawled to the surface and made my eyes widen with a degree of astonishment. “Oh,” I said in mild surprise, “I guess I do know some.”

“Like which ones?” Varryn asked excitedly as he began to rummage around for something in his pack.

“Uh…the one that goes _‘I’ll cross my heart…and promise to…give all I’ve got to give to make all your dreams come true…’”_

“Ooh, George Strait, good one. Good one. What else?”

“One about a girl having a hand-me-down name from the side of a family—”

“Tim McGraw, _Felt Good on My Lips.”_

“I wouldn’t mind listening to that one,” Varric chuckled, mostly to himself. I rolled my eyes.

“I know a few others, but I think the one that I can remember all the lyrics to is probably _Wagon Wheel._ That’s country, right?”

“Man, I love that song,” Varryn beamed. “That was what my team always listened to when I was still the Wyoming FFA State President. We can do that one.”

I made a distressed, whiny noise, but before I could make any halfhearted protests the former farm boy pulled out what it was he had been searching for in his pack. The noises instantly died in my throat.

“You mentioned you could play one, right?” he asked with that boyish glint in his eyes. The harmonica between his fingers glistened.

“Where did you get that?” I whispered breathlessly, a stupid grin on my face. Varryn tossed it to me and I caught it.

“Hallah, ‘course. She’ll give you just about anything if you ask for it. Anyways, I figured you could show us some of your skills during the song. I won’t make you sing it all,” he winked, “just join in for the chorus.”

I saluted him with the harmonica in hand and smirked. “You got it.” I then pressed my lips to the instrument and blew a short puff of air. The quirky noises that sprung forth startled everyone but Alistair, who was sitting smugly against his saddlebags. He had gone through everything already and could now enjoy the bemusement of others.

“What the fock is that?” Sera exclaimed, though not out of fear. Intrigue sparkled in her eyes and an open-mouthed grin was plastered on her face.

“It’s called a harmonica,” I explained. “It’s a pretty fun instrument to play, once you get the hang of it.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would play the fiddle over it any day,” Varryn said to me.

 _“Violin,”_ I corrected with a false air of snootiness. “And you are correct. But this will more than suffice.”

“Wait, Al, you play the violin?” Varric butted in. I scrunched my shoulders and gave a sheepish nod.

“Yeah. But I’ve only ever played it in the Fade since being here. They’re, like, _really_ expensive in this part of Thedas. The good ones, anyways.”

“Huh,” was all he said, but there was something glowing in his distant gaze that made me a little suspicious.

“Get on with it, will you?” Dorian clucked impatiently. “Let’s see if it’ll make up for you two jabbering all day.”

I made a face at him, but straightened my back and wetted my lips as Varryn cleared his throat. “Wanna start us off?” he suggested.

“Sure,” I mumbled from behind the harmonica. “Let’s see if I can even remember the tune.”

I took a breath and started to play the intro of the song, hoping that my memory wouldn’t fail me. The fun thing about harmonicas, though, was that you could always add your own little twist to things to cover the fact that you may have messed up. Varryn didn’t seem to mind at all, though, and began the first part of the song. His singing was as rich and true as his actual voice, and definitely had a country vibe to it. His hand tapped the side of his leg to keep up the beat. I matched it by moving my foot up and down.

When the chorus came, I pulled the harmonica away and sang with a smile. My voice wasn’t country; it was either fifties-esque or bluesy. I used the latter one in this case and harmonized with Varryn.

 _“So rock me mama like a wagon wheel,_  
_Rock me mama any way you feel_  
_Hey, hey, mama rock me_

 _Rock me mama like the wind and the rain_  
_Rock me mama like a southbound train_  
_Hey, hey, mama rock me.”_

After another minute and a half, we finished the song and received a round of applause. Varryn and I high-fived each other, beaming and bright.

“That was some dope shit right there!” I crowed.

“You did good!” Varryn grinned. I spread my arms out wide with a smug smirk on my face.

“What can I say? I sneeze on the beat and the beat gets sicker.”

Varryn gave me a mocking, disbelieving look. “Oh, _okay,”_ he scoffed loudly.

“So that’s country, eh?” Sera said before blowing a raspberry. “Don’t like it that much.”

 _“See?”_ I laughed loudly. “It’s a flop, even in Thedas!”

The Warden-Commander shook his head rigorously and turned the rabbits roasting on the spit over the fire. “Lies,” he grumbled in teasing exasperation. “Complete lies.”

I laughed again and settled against my saddle pack. Solas was beside me, and I couldn’t help but give him a sidelong glance. It was hard not to scoot closer to him and put my hand atop his. Was he struggling with the same temptation? I doubted it. Solas was Solas. He was probably thinking about something…scholarly.

Rabbits made for a meager meal between all of us, and I knew the Wardens were dissatisfied by the end of it. But they held their tongues and continued to joke and converse with the rest of us, making for a lively evening where we could forget the impending doom that threatened to crash down on all of us.

Varryn suddenly clapped his hands together and stood. “Alright, city girl,” he said as he scratched his beard, “you promised me a duet from _Les Mis_ , and I want a duet.”

“N-now?” I sputtered with wide eyes. “But I thought we already did a duet!”

“Ah, but not a duet from _Les Miserables!_ And when else will we be able to?”

“Another song?” Dorian groaned woefully.

I ignored him and instead leaned forward and propped an arm on a bent knee. “What song did you have in mind? Nearly the entire music score is a complete bummer.”

“I know, and the mood is so lovely right now. It’d be a shame if we…ruined it,” Varryn winked unashamedly.

“Ya know, I bet everybody on Earth thought you were a big cinnamon roll,” I grunted as I got to my feet. “But really you’re kind of a deviant.”

“Well, I certainly had a cinnamon roll belly back then,” Varryn chuckled as he patted his stomach. “You wouldn’t want to do _Empty Chairs at Empty Tables,_ would you?”

“Do you _want_ everybody to throw themselves off a nearby cliff?” I asked with a sharply raised eyebrow. He raised his hands dejectedly.

“Alright, alright, I just thought I’d ask.”

“We’re doing _A Heart Full of Love,”_ I said a tad bossily. “It’s short, happy, and without Eponine’s part it won’t be bittersweet.”

“Yes ma’am,” Varryn said seriously, then added sarcastically, “and I’m assuming you want the part of Cosette?”

“Uh, ya,” I responded in a deep voice before clearing my throat. “Go whenever you’re ready.”

Varryn’s country twang receded as he began to sing. As he did so, he stepped around the fire and came near to me. I succumbed to the need to act and fell into the role of Cosette, complete with the love-struck stare and a different body posture altogether. When my part came, I held out both my hands for Varryn to take. He did so and even spun me around as our voices intertwined. I had foregone the bluesy vibe and let out the older, different one that had often reminded people of Jean Simmons (the lady, not the dude from KISS) or Julie Andrews. My dad had an older, more classical voice to him as well.

When the duet reached its finish, Varryn dipped me low to the ground. Both of us were smiling.

“Are you crying?” Sera asked Hawked, who loudly sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

“No!” he grumbled. “The campfire smoke is just getting to me!”

“I feel ya, Garrett,” I sympathized as I was placed back on my feet and bumped fists with Varryn. “And good job, farm boy. You really know how to hold a key. Were you ever in a choir?”

“Only my church’s,” he replied with a humble smile.

Then it was my turn to clap my hands. “Alright, everybody, I’m not sleeping in like I did today, which means none of you are, either. So get to bed, all of you.”

“You’re not my mother,” Dorian protested, but he and everybody else were already getting up. It had been a long day—a good one—but a long day nevertheless. I gave Garrett a potion to help his night terrors, kissed Varric on the forehead, and bid goodnight to everyone. Sera and I dressed down for bed with our weapons close to us, talked for a bit about pooping, and drifted off at about the same time.

…I awoke a while later with something wet coming from my nose. I sat up, absently noticing that I had somehow shifted sideways so that one of my legs sprawled over Sera, and put a finger to my nostril. When I pulled it away I saw what I had expected: blood.

“Freak,” I muttered to myself as I groped for my pack, only to remember that I had left it outside. Grumbling, I got up and slinked through the tent flaps, pinching my nose shut and trying not to lick the blood that was on my lips.

Solas, who was on the second shift of the night, stood from his place near the campfire and strode up to me. “What happened?” he inquired quietly.

“Either I punched myself in the face while I was sleeping—which has happened before—or the change in climate did something,” I replied nasally as I squinted around the camp to see where I had left my saddle bags. “I just need to grab a spare cloth or something to—”

One had already been procured for me. I smiled as best I could at Solas and took it from his hand. “Thank you,” I muttered. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to get my blood all over it?”

“Yes, I am sure,” Solas smiled back. I shrugged sheepishly for some reason and placed it to my nose, using the top half to staunch the blood flow and the other half to wipe off the small amount that had gotten on my lips and chin. “Better?”

“Much,” I said back. We went to sit down by the peaceful, crackling campfire while the nosebleed subsided.

“Are you fond of the Warden?” Solas asked conversationally.

“Varryn? Yeah. He’s a cool guy. I would never want to have his life, but he’s handled it well. It’s nice to have somebody to talk to about Earth. I forgot how much I…I liked it there.” I stared into the flames and hummed in the back of my throat. “I’m glad, though, in a bitter way. I’m glad I never had a family that I would miss when I was gone. But Varryn, he…he probably won’t ever see his family again. And I feel bad for him. I gave up a lot, but he gave up, like, so much more. Except even through all of it, he…he’s still just so kind. I doubt I could ever be like him.”

“No, you cannot,” Solas said gently. “But you can be your best self.”

I breathed a single laugh. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Will you miss him?”

I considered the question for a moment. “I don’t…I’m not sure, really. I’ve only been acquainted with Varryn for little more than a day. If anything, I think I’ll most likely miss somebody that I can relate to.”

“I understand.”

Something heavy settled on my chest. I cast my eyes down to my bare feet and felt my lips straighten into a line. I didn’t know why I was feeling sad all of a sudden, yet there it was. It wasn’t the kind that’d make me cry, but the type that wouldn’t be pushed aside or remedied by thinking differently.

Solas’ hand tentatively brushed against my own for a moment before fully resting on it. His palms and fingers were calloused from wielding a staff and nearly engulfed my own. Without looking at him I turned my hand over so my palm was facing up. Hardly a beat was skipped before I interlaced our fingers and held his hand. _His_ hand.

“Here, let me see how your nose is,” Solas spoke, his voice sending frissions up and down my spine. I lifted my head and directed it towards him. He carefully peeled away the cloth and examined my nose with gray-blue eyes.

“Has the bleeding stopped?” I questioned as I prodded my nostrils and bridge. “I feel like it’s stopped.”

“It…yes, it has.”

“Good.” I began to dust away the dried flecks of blood. “I don’t look too bad, do I?”

Solas caught me with his gaze. I was close to him—closer than I ever had been.

Nervousness began to build up in my chest. Suddenly I was hyperaware of how my body was positioned, how my hair was too messy, how my hand was beginning to sweat, how there was still blood on my upper lip, how—

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Solas said lowly in his throat. I felt the corner of my lips draw upwards and part slightly.

His free hand found its way on the lower part of my jaw, thumb grazing my skin. I watched his eyes dilate as the same hand moved to the nape of my neck, brushing the lower part of my ear before it came to a stop.

I wanted to ask if he was going to kiss me, but by then our lips were already touching.

And oh…oh sweet Andraste.

Solas was the first to pull away. Despite the small, simple interaction, he was breathing heavier than usual. Then again, so was I.

I wasn’t…uh, I wasn’t too _experienced_ in the field of romance. I could flirt, sure, but beyond that? In all of my years of existence, I kissed, what, like three boys? And all of them in my junior high and high school years.

Oh, my gosh. That was so _sad._

But unlike all those times where I nearly had a conniption after pressing my lips against the lips of other boys, the kiss with Solas just left me with wanting _more._ I stopped caring about the fact that he probably tasted blood on my lips or that my hair was awry and focused on the desire building up inside me and the need to be closer to Solas.

He made a noise too quiet to be a groan and too loud to be a breath when I kissed him again, this time letting go of the hold I had on his hand and wrapping one arm around his lean waist while the other pressed against his wildly beating chest. My lips moved languidly, savoring everything I felt. Solas pulled me in more tightly to him, the hand on the nape of my neck moving up my undercut to twine fingers through my loose hair. I almost lost composure at the simple, intimate touch and pressed myself entirely against Solas. His tongue flicked the surface of my lips, testing to see if the move was alright.

And _of course_ it was alright.

Naturally, I invited him by touching his tongue with my own. This time it was I who made a noise, and felt the desire inside melt into a heated core.  My fingers bunched up Solas’ tunic and I curved my back in order to fit to his body better.

Solas was just beginning to trace a hand down the side of my waist when there was a sudden rustling from the Wardens’ tent. We didn’t even have the chance to separate ourselves before Alistair ducked through, eyes nearly shut as though he was still mostly asleep.

My assumption proved to be correct, because Alistair looked in our direction—with our bodies still locked and frozen expressions of fear plastered on our faces—without noticing anything. He just continued to stagger off to the woods, where we soon heard him loudly pissing.

That killed the mood. I bowed my head, soundlessly chuckling into Solas’ shoulder. He kissed the top of my forehead and whispered, “I fully intend on continuing this later, Alaran.”

The way he said my name sent literal chills down my spine. I drew in a slightly shaking breath, lifted my head back up, and whispered back, “As do I, Solas.”

I kissed him once more for good measure and slunk back to my tent before Alistair returned. I got back under my blankets and stared up at the top of the tent, grinning widely and resisting the urge to kick my legs giddily.

I just made out with Solas.

Holy crap, _I just made out with Solas._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wyoming has terrain really similar to Idaho's, so I know I'd miss it a lot. That and my family. And I didn't mean to make Alaran sound cocky when she was describing her voice--that was just how I kind of imagined how she sang. An old soul has an old type of voice. 
> 
> And let's not forget the fact that she got some action, finally.


	48. Kissers are Winners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al says goodbye and deals with the deaths of those she never knew

It was a surprise that I even fell asleep last night. One moment I was biting my lip to keep from outright laughing with glee, and the next I was waking up to my own internal clock setting. But the amazing thing was that the moment I could begin to think I remembered what had happened between Solas and me.

Man, I just wanted to _tell_ somebody. But Sera would only react negatively, Varric would be grossed out (and I’d be grossed out telling him), Hawke would do a one-man reenactment of the scene, Varryn was basically a dad at a barbecue, Alistair and I _didn’t know each other,_ and Bubberston would only huff indifferently at me. And, surprisingly, I wished that Hallah was here so we could gush and giggle together. She probably wouldn’t come, though, and I was too impatient to wait until we reached Skyhold.

That left only one man I could share my enthusiasm with.

Unfortunately, Dorian was crabby that I had everybody up so early. That was expected, though, and I dragged him with me down to the small stream nearby to wash up. I ignored his passive complaints and how he had to make comment on _everything._ It was only when we were out-of-earshot did I let my rigid posture loosen into a puddle of goo.

“What happened?” the mage asked me surreptitiously, eyes scanning my body from head to toe. “You look unusually relaxed. Especially at this time of the day.”

I reached up and gripped both of his shoulders. “Promise me you can keep a secret?” I questioned with a seriously raised eyebrow.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Depends on what the secret is, but yes, I can. Usually. Most of the time. As long as it’s not something overtly amusing that the others would like to know.”

My hands moved to squish my cheeks. “Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“I kissed Solas. Like _kissed_ kissed him.”

He stared at me for a while, expression unreadable. Then, in true Dorian Pavus fashion, he tossed his head back and laughed. I gave him a flat stare and humorlessly watched him get it all out. When Dorian finally trailed off into sudden bursts of giggles, I asked, “Are you done?”

“Done? No. Blackwall was just dumb enough to bet against me that you and Solas fancied each other.”

I hit him on the shoulder. “What the flip Dorian you freaking placed a _bet?”_

“I made a balanced assumption based on the traits both Solas and you exhibited when you were around each other.” He twirled an obvious finger in the air. _“Not_ a bet.”

“How much did you put down?” I questioned with an eyebrow raised so high I could almost feel the eyelid underneath just _giving way._

“Twenty coppers. My assumptions have been incorrect from time to time, after all. I didn’t want to lose my life savings.”

Not knowing why I expected something different, I gave my head a shake and crouched down by the bank of the cold stream to wash my face and brush my teeth. “Whatever,” I murmured with a forced half-laugh. “I don’t fucking care what you do with your money.”

My breath was momentarily taken from me as I splashed frigid water onto my skin and began scrubbing as best I could with my hands. Dorian _hmphed_ and said, “From the tone of your voice I would think otherwise.” He crouched beside me. “What’s this all about anyways? You’re usually so guarded about your personal life. The reason why Blackwall and I made the bet was because we never thought anything would come of it.”

“And are you still going to collect your money?” I prompted with more sullenness than I’d care to admit.

“It depends. Are you going to disembowel me for having a little fun?”

I snorted, a smile crawling up my lips. “Maybe. I’m the Inquisitor, you know. I could do a lot of bad things to people whose form of amusement comes at my expense.”

“I hate it when you talk like that,” Dorian said dryly. “I can never tell if you’re serious or not.” I chuckled and began to undo my hair so I could run some water through the strands and hopefully manage to put it up for the day. If not, then a braid would do.

“Sorry, sorry. But, ah, to answer your original question…I’ve just never had anybody to talk about boys with. To do that I’d have to _have_ a boy and _have_ friends to talk about said boy and—” I realized that I was just delving into the lonely childhood I never wanted to think about and pulled up short. My shoulders bounced up and down. “I’ve just kept a lot of secrets for a long time. I thought it’d be nice to not have one for once.”

Dorian’s expression changed upon hearing my confession. A bit of sympathy entered his eyes and he smiled. “Well, dear Alaran, let’s cluck away. But know that, no matter what, I’ll always slightly judge you for liking a man who matches neutral colors with neutral colors.”

I lightly laughed. “That’s fair. Thanks for your honesty.”

“So how did it all happen?”

“Well,” I started with an awkward laugh, “I woke up with a nosebleed…”

-

The time had come for farewells. I hugged Garrett tightly and gave him written instructions on how much of the sleeping potion he should take and at what times if he wanted to stem his night terrors. Alistair needed a whetstone, so I gave him mine to use. “You can give it back when we see each other again in the scorching desert,” I winked, fully acknowledging that I’d never get it back. As the others bid their goodbyes, Varryn and I made eye contact and silently agreed to step off to the side for one final conversation.

“So,” I breathed.

“So,” he breathed. After scratching his beard for a moment, Varryn continued. “I’ve been thinking about some of the things that were discussed yesterday. About following the plot of the game and all that. And…yes, things are very hard to change, as both you and I know. But there are little things that we can adjust and shift in our favor.”

“Like for example?” I quietly asked.

“Okay, well…Jowan? The blood mage from the Circle Mage origins? I saved him from being executed. He was conscripted into the Warden Order. A-and Oghren didn’t just reluctantly keep in contact with Felsi and their child, but I helped him become an active, loving father. He doesn’t even _drink_ much anymore. Sigrun, Velanna, Nathaniel, Alistair, Leliana, Fergus Cousland, Shianni…through and through, I’ve found that the greatest impact you can make are on the lives of those closest to you. And lord, Alaran, if I did just alright doing that then I know you’ll do _amazing.”_

I found myself faintly smiling. “I didn’t want you thinking that whatever you do won’t make a difference in the end. Because it will,” Varryn finished.

“Thanks, Brosca,” I sincerely said, “that means a lot.” My head tilted a fraction and brows drew together in preparation of the question I was about to pose. “You’re not going on your excursion alone, are you?”

His own smile made his slate gray eyes twinkle. “No. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned a few of those people I listed, huh?”

“Probably. But I’m glad to hear that there are still some who are on your side.” My soft expression faded. “What did you do with the Architect?”

Varryn cast his gaze down, expression mirroring mine. “I had to kill him. He…he had more plans than the game ever let on. I couldn’t let him go free.”

“Good,” I said resolutely, making him bring his eyes back to me. “The Architect wasn’t a dandy dude.”

“But without him another Blight is coming,” Varryn solemnly said back. “I don’t know when, but it’s going to be here soon. And maybe it’s just me, but I have a feeling that it’s going to be a real bitch. Which is all the more reason to search for a cure—and if not a cure, then some answers.”

Coming from the guy who lived through one already, that probably wasn’t a good thing. “Well, I’ll make sure that the Inquisition does all that it can to help prepare for whatever comes next.”

“Please, do. The Warden Order is going to need your support. Things are happening that aren’t…that aren’t good. Don’t let the people abandon us, because we’ve never abandoned them.”

Varryn’s sudden fervor gave me cause for concern. My arms found themselves folding against my chest. “What’s going to happen?” I inquired.

He gave his head a shake. “Bad stuff. But whatever you do, whatever choices you make, I have faith that they’ll be the right ones.”

“Well that was vague,” I huffed. “Though I don’t blame you. Just like I don’t blame Hallah. Who, in fact, I blamed for a long time. But can you do me a solid?”

“And what kind of solid is that?”

“Write to me. Keep me updated. I want to help in any way possible. Also, depending on where you’re going, I want to make sure you’re safe. There are places— _people—_ beyond Thedas that won’t take strangers in their land lightly.”

“And how do you know that I’m going beyond Thedas?”

“Just call it a hunch,” I smirked ruefully before getting serious again. “But really. There are things out there that will drive people insane, that feast on the bones of the living, that…that have eyes here in Thedas already.”

“I understand. I’ll be careful.”

“You had better be. You have a son waiting for you,” I reminded. Longing filled the Warden’s eyes and I feared that I had overstepped my bounds.

“Speaking of which,” Varryn murmured partially to me and partially to himself. He reached into his pocket and fished out a small leather pouch. Handing it to me, he said, “could you give that to Kieran when you see him? There’s something for Morrigan in there too.”

“Of course,” I spoke kindly. The pouch was put inside my utility belt.

“Thank you.” Varryn looked over to the group waiting for us. “Welp, should we get going—”

“Wait,” I said a bit quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from turning away, “I wanna ask you one last thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Everybody that was with you during the Blight—they all knew you were from Earth, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then why does Leliana still think that I’m the first person she’s met from…” I slowly trailed off as things clicked together. “Oh. Right. Hallah.”

Varryn’s rich chuckle was something I hoped I could hear again. “Yeah, I figured it was her doing when you never mentioned anything about Lels.”

“It’s not like I’d just go up and ask her about it, either,” I joked as we started to walk back, “she’s such a freaking edge lord these days.”

The Warden-Commander threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I haven’t heard that…” he choked out, “I haven’t thought about that meme in _ages._ Golly, I’m old.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” I smirked as I spread my arms out. “So, you got anything else to say to me before we part ways? Any advice? Wisdom? Insight?”

Varryn’s nose twitched as he thought. We were almost within earshot of everybody else, by now. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He slowed down and stopped again, making me follow suit. Sera’s loud groan reminded us that we were taking too long. “You...you know by now that there is more than one world in this universe. One that we thought was just make-believe and for our own amusement. So don’t be, ah, too overwhelmed if you meet others who you considered to be not real.”

I shifted the angle of my hips into a partially defensive stance. “Brosca, don’t be dropping a bombshell on me right before you leave,” I said somewhat heatedly. The frown on my face contradicted the wild excitement in my eyes. “Don’t pull a shit move like that.”

He shrugged mildly. “I could give you an endless supply of bombshells, Lavellan, but unfortunately we’re running out of time.”

I breathed through my nostrils and cast my gaze down to the cold, damp ground. “There’s never enough time, is there?”

“No. There isn’t.”

My eyes flicked back up to Varryn, sharp and steady. “Who did you meet? You wouldn’t have said anything to me if not for having a previous experience with such.”

After a moment of pure solemnity, The Hero of Ferelden smiled like a preteen boy and bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, it’s not important.”

A silver eyebrow raised dubiously. “From your reaction, I think that it just might be.”

“I—I mean, yeah, of course it’s important to me. But…but ah, it’s a little…p-private?”

Here was a thirty-something-year-old man who had made nations edge forward in their seats to listen to what he had to say, stumbling over his words as he tried to tell me that whoever he had met was pretty damn serious.

I pushed my lips to the side as some of the dejection I felt showed. “I suppose that’s alright,” I sighed resignedly. “I mean, am I a little bummed out that you won’t tell me? Ya. But if it’s that serious to you then I won’t pry…Even though I hate leaving things to the imagination. Do you know how many nights I’m going spend awake just trying to think of who you bumped into?” To emphasize my statement I lightly pounded my fist into Varryn’s chest. “If you ever decide to tell me, you know where to write.”

“That I do.” He held out his arm, which I firmly clasped for a few moments. “Until next time, city girl,” Varryn said with a wink.

“Until next time, farm boy,” I said with a wink of my own.

Then he, Garrett, and Alistair left.

-

A bit of shell-shock set in my system for the rest of the day. I had met an Otherworlder, fair and true, and then he had left as quickly as he came.

Though I fought to ignore it, a dark creature had dug its claws into the back of my mind, whispering to me that I would never see Varryn Brosca again.

That nobody would.

But, as much as I wished to wallow in the emotions that I had been highly unprepared for, the world kept carrying on. And amidst that there was work to be done.

Varric, Solas, Sera, Dorian, and I reached Redcliffe by late morning the next day. Iron Bull, the one who sent me the missive strongly suggesting that I stop by on our way back to Skyhold, was there with the Chargers and a small contingent of Inquisition soldiers to greet us on the outskirts of the town.

“What do you have for me?” I asked the Ben-Hassrath as I dismounted.

“And a good morning to you as well, Boss,” he rumbled amusedly. I apologetically smiled and gave my horse a pat on the neck before the soldiers took him away to be given a little rest. “We got wind of some Tevinter activity still occurring here in Redcliffe, so we decided to drop by and sniff around. Unfortunately, the trail was old by the time we arrived.” He and I began to walk, the others following as they listened to the backdrop Iron Bull was providing. “But Redcliffe has brown ale and women with good tits, so we thought we’d stick around for the night. The job you sent us on was a success, so hey, we deserve a little reward, right?”

“You have to do something with the rivers of gold the Inquisition is paying you, of course,” I said in an overtly nonchalant tone. Bull noticed the sarcasm, I was sure, but he chose to simply roll with it.

“That’s what I said. So we wind down and relax in the Gull’s Lamppost or whatever the fuck it’s called, getting drunk and horny.”

“Pun intended?” Varric inquired.

“No, but it’s funny all the same,” Bull replied with a chuckle. We all shared smiles before he got serious again. “We were all ready to go when an informant of mine who’s here mentioned an abandoned shack down by the docks that had been reportedly utilized by the Venatori. It was barricaded and nobody could get in, but they thought we should take a look anyways. Any foothold we can gain on those Tevinter bastards is worth knocking through a few inches of wood.”

The six of us descended into the town, where we were immediately recognized by many of the residents. I believed many of them wanted to come up and thank us, but from the looks on our faces and the way we were walking, they saw that we were on official business and stayed back. It made me feel guilty and relieved at the same time. As much as I wanted to talk with each person here to ask them how they were doing and if the Inquisition could help in any way, I couldn’t be that woman at the moment. There was a give and take with everything.

“I’m guessing what you found inside is what you wanted me to see,” I concluded as we followed the steps down to the docks. More Inquisition soldiers guarded the shack, all of them grim-faced and haunted.

“Yeah,” Bull said. “You know those freaky skull things that we’re finding all over? The ones that can light up those even freakier shards?”

“I do know, yes. The oculara.”

“Well…” Bull came to a stop right outside the shack, where the musty smell of stale alchemical practices and a rotten undertone wafted through the broken entryway. “We found out where they all came from.”

He gestured for me to enter the plain and ordinary dwelling. I gave him one last look above the frames of my spectacles before stepping in.

Silent despair nearly overtook me as I saw what vile atrocities took place. So many skulls, just…lined up against the wall and piled on tables like reading material or mundane objects. Some were half-completed, pieces of bones missing from the center of the skull. But others were bare and untouched, only marked by the sunburst sigil that had not only branded their skin, but their very bone itself.

“So each ocularum is made from the skull of a Tranquil,” Solas observed gravely. Dorian softly cursed under his breath. Or was it a prayer?

“I figured they’d fled with the rebel mages. Poor bastards,” Varric murmured sadly.

“I had wondered what had become of them when the mages rebelled. What a tragic waste.”

Iron Bull grunted. “Not like the Tranquil were doing much with ‘em.”

“…Excuse me?”

I slowly turned to all of them, fists balled, eyes blazing, jaw clenched. “I believe I misheard you, The Iron Bull. Repeat to me what you said.”

There was no hiding the danger in my gaze, the _challenge._ But Bull met it head-on, being the Qunari he was. “The Tranquil are shells. Husks with their humanity carved out of them. Though it’s not the best way for anybody to go, it didn’t matter to them.”

“Tell me,” I spoke with such quietness it was barely above a whisper, “have you ever seen a Tranquil whipped and beaten?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen a Tranquil raped?”

“No.”

“Have you ever heard a Tranquil scream?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Neither have I. But I’ve seen the ones with scars on their bodies from beatings that would send any normal man into a fit of insanity. I’ve treated female Tranquils with such trauma to their insides they shouldn’t have been able to walk, let alone _function._ And yet, you will never hear a scream from them. Not a raised voice, not a cry…nothing.” My voice snapped and cracked through the air. “That’s because they were silenced so they could be raped and beaten and abused. It didn’t matter if they were good or bad because in the end they were made Tranquil for one reason: to make sure that they didn’t have _a voice._ They were somebody’s son, daughter, grandchild, _friend, family—_ and they were separated and isolated and forced into a world where they were alone.”

I turned to the table we were standing near to, examining the skulls of men and women stripped of their will, their love, their life. “They didn’t deserve what was given to them in life,” I said, anger replaced with bitter despair once more. “And they didn’t deserve a death like this.”

Claustrophobia closed in on me, and I could feel breaths rattling from the skulls of those who were murdered without resistance. I walked out of the shack, not looking at anybody in the eyes as I strode past. I instructed one of the Inquisition officers to oversee the removal and transport of the skulls, where they would be delivered to Skyhold to have some sort of burial ceremony. They shouldn’t be discarded, just as they were discarded once they had the sunburst brand on their forehead.

In a daze, I wound up sitting in front of Lord Woolsley’s pen, where I watched the spirit-possessed ram nibble on the spring grass sprouting from the ground. His owner, the one-eyed guy who I didn’t even know the name of, tried talking to me, but I was so out-of-it that he gave up and went about his usual business. It was as if he had had other Inquisitors sit in front of his pet’s pen and intensely regard them.

“Lord Woolsley,” I found myself saying quietly, “do you remember when we found you? And Solas said you were a spirit, and Cassandra wanted to kill you? But I said no, because I knew that you’d only turn into a demon if you were threatened?”

The ram lifted his head towards me, listening. I leaned forward and stretched my left hand through the wooden fence, bare palm opening to expose the Anchor. Lord Woolsley plodded over, placing his snout into my hand and sniffing the ancient magic displaced on my flesh. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” I smiled faintly. “You ran away because of Alexius, didn’t you? You felt him coming, knew something was wrong. I don’t blame you. I wish I could have run away.” A small chuckle escaped. “Well, not really. I don’t know if I’m capable of running away. Which isn’t entirely a good thing.”

 _“Why?”_ a neutral, calm voice coming from Lord Woolsley inquired in a hushed tone.

“Why? I don’t know, probably because I don’t know when to quit. When to stop.”

_“And that is bad?”_

“It could be. It has been. I don’t want to be consumed. Just like how you don’t want to be consumed.” I moved my hand up to scratch the base of Lord Woolsley’s horn. “I’m sad, noble ram.”

_“Why?”_

“Tranquil were rounded up in droves and slaughtered so their skulls could be used as devices. I wasn’t able to help them. I thought I had helped the mages, but I’m just…brutally reminded that one grand act doesn’t solve hundreds of years of problems and injustices. We have quite a ways to go.”

_“Yes. You do.”_

I pursed my lips and patted Lord Woolsley’s head. “Thanks for the chat, _elgar._ It helped.”

As Lord Woolsley went back to being a normal ram, I stood and brushed off the back of my pants. The day was warming up and sun bore down on the top of my scalp. I turned to begin my search of the companions I had left when I saw Solas making his way up. Seeing his face nearly sent the guard I erected go crashing down. Not knowing what else to do or where else to go, I simply began walking the opposite direction of Solas. He followed, even as I weaved through the tall pines that rimmed the inland side of Redcliffe. When the din of the town faded away and became quiet, I let myself come to a stop. My head tilted back to look at the swaying trees that filtered sunlight through their needles and leaves.

“Alaran?” Solas called out lightly.

“I’m here,” I replied, not knowing why I chose such words. “I’m here.”

One of his hands found its way to my shoulder. “As am I.”

Upon hearing the gentle confirmation, I slowly faced Solas. He wasn’t looking at me with pity or sadness, but understanding and sympathy. “I…” Words got stuck in my throat, making it ache and burn.

I was enveloped in a slow and strong hug. My hands pressed themselves to Solas’ back, feeling the muscle he hid beneath his plain clothing. The pain in my throat faded as I inhaled the smell of the soap Solas used to wash his clothing, with the everlasting hint of old magic engrained into his skin. My glasses threatened to bend because of the force being applied to them, but I had a feeling that it would take a lot more to break them if they were given to me by Hallah.

The embrace lasted long enough that when we let go I came away with a faint smile on my face. Solas took my hand and kissed the back of it. “Come. Let us return,” he suggested. “Skyhold misses its Inquisitor.”

Before the two of us left the woods, I tugged Solas back to me to give him a kiss on his lips. He leaned into it, knuckle raising to brush against the sharp angle of my jaw and trail back to the bottom of my earlobe. It wasn’t as heated or long as it was last night, but my stomach warmed all the same.

I could get used to this, having someone close to me. It eased a lot of pain from such anguishing situations.

There was little doubt in my mind that I’d never stop realizing that I didn’t have to be alone in this life.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! So the reason why this chapter has been so late in getting posted was because I kept thinking that I'd add more to the end and found that I couldn't. Also, I'm writing another oc into this world, which you'll all have the pleasure of meeting in a little while (spoiler alert: her name is Hana and she's from New Zealand). So fixing up her story has taken up some time. 
> 
> I never got around to writing about Al meeting Lord Woolsley the first time around, so I thought I'd add him in after they returned him to his owner. Everybody says he's a demon, but I'd like to believe that he's only a demon when you attack him. And I've been waiting to write the scene when Al turns on Bull because of his comment about the Tranquil. 
> 
> Next chapter there's going to be a cameo from a certain finnicky human mage from DAO: Witch Hunt. Man, I'm giving away a lot of things tonight, aren't I?


	49. A Grasp of Peace and Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al meets somebody who Bioware freaking undersold

“What happened to the Tranquil was a travesty,” Leliana said to me as we went over reports in her rookery. “You were right to have their remains sent here. I’ve already had scouts pick out a plot of land to lay them to rest.”

“Is it in the cemetery?” I questioned as I gave her a glance.

“Yes. I expected you wouldn’t be too pleased if you found that we had decided to bury them someplace else.”

I breathed a laugh. “And you’d be right.”

“I also assumed that you’d be fine with letting one of the Inquisition’s mages oversee the burial and ceremony,” Leliana continued. “He…volunteered personally.”

There was a light hum in the back of my throat. “Come now, Leliana, you don’t have to veil your words around me. Explain to me what this “volunteer” did.”

The spymaster chuckled lowly and leaned back in her chair, picking up the cup of tea by her left hand and taking a sip. I did so as well and brought the hot drink to my lips. While Leliana had merely added a dash of sugar to her tea, I dumped in a heaping spoonful and a whole lotta cream. The sweeter, the better, in my honest opinion. “I heard a disturbance in the library below. At first I thought it was just Dorian being dramatic, but remembered that Dorian wasn’t here. One of the scouts came upstairs to inform that a mage wished an audience with me despite having no previous appointment.”

“Let me guess: you told them to send him away,” I said wryly.

“I am a busy woman, Inquisitor. I cannot speak to every single soul that wishes to chat personally. The Inquisition is orderly; skipping procedures and regulations would only slow that system down.”

“Of course. I would have done the same thing. But something had to happen, yes?”

The spymaster pulled her purple hood back and let it fall onto her shoulders. “Indeed. The ruckus continued until I heard the door to the rookery burst open and somebody scrambling up the staircase. Every scout in here had a hand on a weapon by the time the mage reached the top.”

“Including yourself?”

“Including myself. But as soon as I saw him I knew he posed no real threat. He was winded from running, trying to untangle his robes from his legs, and shrilly pleading for us not to attack. I commanded my people to lower their weapons. His tenacity impressed me enough to listen to what he had to say. He had heard of the Tranquil skulls being sent to Skyhold and requested that he manage their care. When I asked why he simply didn’t go to Josie, who directs shipments, or Cullen, who directs the soldiers who guard the shipments, the mage said that it would have taken too long to coordinate everything.”

A smirk played on my mouth. “So he just goes straight to the woman who oversees it all. I like this guy; he seems to have a great amount of tenacity…and an almost a foolish amount of bravery.”

“That he does. He quickly proved to me he was capable and more than willing to get results at Inquisition standards. I gave him the permission and papers he needed, then suggested that he wear something other than robes and slippers. It’s awfully mucky where the cemetery plot is.”

“Mages and their robes, I swear,” I muttered over the rim of my cup. “It’s like they think it makes them more… _magical._ And they still wear them even though they’re free of the Circle. Don’t they know that they just look like—”

“Tater tots?” Leliana suggested. I gave her a somewhat stunned look. She returned it with that innocent laugh of hers. “The Warden used to use that when describing somebody he thought was full of themselves. The moment you sent the missive saying that Varryn came from the same place you did, I began remembering things that had been blocked from my mind.”

“Hallah’s doing,” I stated plainly. Leliana cast me a deprecating look.

“Apparently. It disturbs me that she can do such things. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, of course. But you probably would have tried killing me if you heard me say “frick frack” or something of the like, just like he and Alistair did.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.”

My eyebrow raised doubtfully. “Leliana, come on. You don’t really have that, _ask first, kill later_ kind of attitude.”

“I’d be a terrible spymaster if I killed everyone who I thought was a threat. Then I’d never learn their secrets,” she countered. I huffed and drained the rest of my tea. A white sludge of sugar trailed at the bottom. “Have you seen your…patron…since returning? I overhear my people talking about her, and my people overhear others doing the same. But none have directly come forward about it.”

“Eh, just leave her be. She’s helping our people. That’s what counts.”

The spymaster didn’t seem exactly pleased with my advice but didn’t dispute it. I set my empty cup aside and plucked a small raspberry tart that I had brought up along with the tea. “So where is this mage?” I asked. “I’d like to thank him personally and see what he’s done so far.”

“Either in the tower where the mages gather or out at the cemetery. I could have somebody fetch him for you, if you’d like.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll find him on my own.” I paused and took a bite of the tart. “Wait,” I said between chewing, “what’s his name, even? And where’d he come from?”

“He called himself Finn. He used to be a resident of Kinloch Hold, but somehow managed to get away from there before the Circles fell. He said it was largely because of the assistance he gave Varryn when the Warden was searching for Morrigan.”

I found myself suddenly smirking. “Huh. That’s interesting. And good.” I popped the rest of the tart into my mouth. “Now, Leli, let’s go over a few more reports.”

She sighed mirthlessly. “I hated that nickname Varryn gave me. And I hate it still.”

“You can’t kill me for it, though,” I teased, “I’m the Inquisitor.”

“No, but I can do many other things that would make you suffer.”

“Is threatening the only thing you know, Leli?” I continued to poke, unperturbed by her comment.

“Keep up what you’re doing and you’ll find out.”

-

Vivienne and Cassandra accompanied me down to the cemetery. The day was warm and sunny, meaning that it was also muddy and slushy. Still, the enchantress made no complaint as the three of us descended down the mountainside on foot. It wasn’t that far of a walk; there was a spacious plot of land that was fairly even and not too far from the main path. Anybody who’d like to visit those that were lost under the Inquisition’s name wouldn’t have to make an arduous journey to get a little peace of mind.

I talked to the women about what we saw and what we’d have to deal with, as well as the revelation that Varryn was an Otherworlder like me. Cassandra’s mind was put to ease when she found out why Varryn had been avoiding Leliana’s and her search for him, and Vivienne was eager to know how he came to be in this world. I enjoyed conversing with them; they had become close friends and I missed their presence on the journey to and from Crestwood.

We turned onto the path that led to the cemetery. Snow was still gathered underneath the shade of the ancient trees that blanketed the mountainside, but the path itself was yucky. “I told you we should have ridden horses down here, Alaran,” Vivienne said to me as she trudged through.

“Horses would have made the road worse,” Cassandra returned, boots squelching while she spoke. “Don’t worry, enchantress; if you get stuck Alaran and I will pull you out. Though you may lose one of your expensive boots.”

“And if you get stuck?” Vivienne quipped, but there was a lightheartedness to her tone. Cassandra only shook her head and chuckled, like it was too ridiculous of a notion to even acknowledge.

Halfway to the graveyard I posed a question to Madame de Fer. “Did you ever know anybody who was made Tranquil, Vivienne?”

“Yes, I did. A few people, actually.”

“How many?” I followed up.

“Seven, if you wanted the specifics. Though there were far more that I didn’t know who shared the same fate.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without…without yourself,” Cassandra confessed. “It is little wonder why so many are unnerved by their presence.”

“There’s one story I heard about a mage from Kinloch Hold,” Vivienne said, shifting the depressing mood of the conversation. “She had been sentenced to a life as a Tranquil. When they put the brand to her forehead, however, she summoned an unknown magic and incapacitated everyone.”

“I’ve heard of the tale, too,” Cassandra said with a slight scoff. “It’s also said that she was the one who branded Knight-Commander Greagoir with the same sunburst that he tried to use on her.”

I glanced at them with a slight frown. “I’ve never heard of this story. What happened to them?”

“Jumped out the window,” Vivienne went on, “swam through Lake Calenhad, defeated every templar that came for her, until one day her phylactery was just…gone. But Denerim is notorious for losing phylacteries, so it is not an unprecedented thing.”

“Or she could have been killed,” Cassandra ended bluntly.

“Perhaps. I did hear some whispers in the court a few years back, though, from some visiting Rivaini emissaries. They spoke of a mage who was still comprehensive despite having been marked Tranquil.”

“And do you believe it?” the Seeker inquired with a snort.

“It mattered not what I believed. I was in Orlais, not Rivain. I hardly had the time to think about little rumors like that.”

The fact that Vivienne remembered the “little rumor” made it seem otherwise.

Several mages and Inquisition soldiers were surrounding an area of land that was currently being dug up. The ground surrounding Skyhold was dry and rocky; though there was a layer of mud from the melting snow, dig far enough and you’d hit arid dirt and stones. Somebody spotted the three of us enter the clearing and immediately redirected the attention.

“Inquisitor,” one of the commanding soldiers said, jogging up to me and giving a brief bow. She did the same to Vivienne and Cassandra. “Madame de Fer, Seeker Pentaghast.”

“How’s work going?” I asked as I started walking again.

“Well, my lady. We were worried that the amount of rocks in the way would get in the way of the size the mage wanted it, but their spells have made things much easier.”

“Excellent. And where is this mage? Finn, if I remember correctly?”

The officer opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a voice exclaiming from the hole, “Why has everybody stopped working? Did all of you decide to go on lunch break without me?”

I smirked and began striding over to the edge of the grave. A Dalish woman I hadn’t noticed before loudly shushed the person. “Be quiet! The Inquisitor is here!”

There was a loud laugh. “As if I’d believe that! You just want me to take a rest, don’t you?”

I stopped a few inches short of the drop, leaning forward and looking down at the single man in the square, six-by-six grave. He was down another five or so feet, which was why he couldn’t see anything going on above.

He did, however, see me staring at him. His mouth immediately opened and closed several times, unable to produce words for the first few seconds. “I-Inquisitor!” he practically shrieked. “I—I had no idea t-that you were—I’m sorry if you heard—of course I considered that you’d b-be—”

The Dalish woman groaned and drug a hand down her face. _“Ir abelas,_ Inquisitor Lavellan,” she said to me. “He’s…not always this messy.”

I chuckled amusedly. _“Tel abelas.”_  My hand lifted to wave at the mage. “You must be Finn,” I called. “Sister Leliana told me of your perseverance on taking charge of this ceremony. It’s quite good of you. If it’d be alright, I’d like to ask you a few questions about your plans.”

“O-of course, your highness!”

Next to me, the Dalish lady made an exasperated noise. That only made me chuckle again. Finn began to clamber up the slope they had made to excavate the grave, but I said, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll come to you!”

“Inquisitor—” Cassandra began, but I had already skipped over the edge and landed on both feet. Finn stared at me slack-jawed. I adjusted my round glasses and held out my arm for him to grasp.

“Alaran Lavellan. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Finn returned the gesture and gripped my arm. An awestruck grin grew on his face. “The honor is all mine, Inquisitor! My name is Finn—but you already knew that.”

“So what do you intend to do, Finn? And what can we do to help?”

“W-we?”

I gestured up to Cassandra and Vivienne. The first was scowling at me while the second was “conversing” with the other mages. “Cass and Viv. But don’t say that I called them that,” I winked. “Or I’ll get disemboweled seven different ways.”

He emitted a high-pitched, nervous laugh. “Your secret is safe with me, Inquisitor.”

“Good.” I rubbed my hands together. “Oh, and who’s that friend of yours up there? The pretty Dalish woman.”

“O-oh, that’s Ariane. My wife.” Finn held up his left hand and waggled his fingers. A simple gold band gleamed in the sunlight. “She’s not allowed to do any work aside from bossing me around because she’s pregnant.”

I made an excited face. “No way! How far along is she?”

“Six months,” Finn beamed proudly, already becoming more comfortable in my presence. “She still thinks she can do everything because elves don’t show as much as humans during pregnancy, but I _read—”_ He pulled up short. “Ah, I’m sure you already know about it, b-being an elf and all. But, ah, Ariane is still a great help.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m happy for you two. Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I just want a kid. It doesn’t matter who they’ll be,” Finn breathed happily. “In the Circle, you live and die knowing that you’ll never have a family of your own. But then suddenly I wasn’t part of the Circle anymore, and all these possibilities opened up.”

“Leliana said you left before the Mage-Templar War. How did you avoid the templars when they had your phylactery?”

“Ariane, of course. She kept them off our trail until finally they just got tired of searching. I’d be dead if it hadn’t been for her.” He glanced up at his wife, who was grumpily eating a small apple with one hand on her tummy. “The baby likes sweet things but Ariane hates anything with more than an ounce of sugar. We managed to find middle ground with fruits.”

“Well, Finn, you sound like one lucky man,” I smirked.

“I am,” he said dreamily, then loudly cleared his throat. “But—ah, let me tell you about what my plans are for this whole thing.”

“Right! I’m all ears.”

-

“I should have known something like this would happen,” Cassandra muttered to me as we dug. “You had that look in your eye.”

“What look?” I posed airily.

“A gleam, dear,” Vivienne said, voice as dry as the dirt we shoveled. “Your spectacles amplify them. You always get one whenever you have a plan that you won’t deign to tell us.”

“Aw, come on,” I huffed with a grin, “there’s nothing wrong with digging a little dirt. My father always said that it built character.”

“Inquisitor. Your family was extremely rich and lived in a city. You probably didn’t know how to hold a shovel until you were forced to,” Cassandra flatly replied. I paused and straightened, giving her an exaggerated, abashed look.

“Excuse me, _Seeker,_ but I knew how to _figuratively_ shovel. It meant that doing dirty work to achieve a goal was worth it, because you figure out who you are along the way. Of course, my dad was a high-profile criminal that always covered his tracks. The funniest thing was that he could have been arrested for hitting me at any time.” I tilted my head and made a face. “I hate how any time I talk about my family it always ends up sounding extremely depressing.”

“That’s because it was,” Vivienne said. She stepped on a large rock in her way and gave it a tap. It then disintegrated into fine rubble.

“I agree,” Cassandra put in. I frowned at the two of them and leaned on my shovel.

“Come on, I’ve had to have said at least _one_ bright thing about my youth.”

“There was the nanny,” Vivienne recounted, “but she was sent away at some point. Other than her, I don’t believe I’ve heard anything positive. Cassandra?”

“It is the same for me. Your only begin to speak about the good things when you came to Kirkwall.”

“I had plenty of happy moments during childhood,” I argued, but not too loudly that it’d draw attention from the others. “Just not with my parents.” My head shook and I made a noise. “Whatevsies. We’re just about finished here, anyways.” I shielded my eyes from the sun with a hand and called up to Finn and Ariane, “Things are pretty even, wouldn’t you say so?”

“It looks about right, yes. Come on up and we can begin laying the remains to rest.”

I saluted to Finn, who in turn blushed and giddily turned back to his wife. She only smiled and patted his cheek. “The Dalish are reclusive,” Vivienne discussed as she and Cassandra walked with me up the little slope out of the grave. “I wonder what that one saw in a bookish Circle mage that would make her want to leave it all behind.”

“Maybe he just treated her right,” I said back, keeping my voice a tad low. “That’s all anybody wants in the end, isn’t it?”

The Enchantress hummed but said nothing else. We and the rest of the helpers gathered around the cart, where crates of Tranquil skulls were stacked. As they were unpacked, a tangible solemnness blanketed our shoulders. I was given one of the skulls and held it tenderly in my hands while taking it to the other cart, where one of the soldiers passed me a small sack. I gently placed it through an eye socket and proceeded to carry it back down to the grave. Others followed behind me, and we started lining the skulls alongside the edge of the earthen wall. Then I went back up and repeated the same thing.

There was a type of plant that grew in the Brecilian Forest. I didn’t know the academic name for it, but the Dalish called it Ghilan’nain’s Antlers. It could only grow from deep within the ground, which was why not many ever saw it. But the ones that were successfully planted sprouted from the ground within a month. Then they split into two stems, and those stems grow in a spiral pattern around each other. The plant shoots up into the sky and can grow up to ten feet tall. Later in the summer they’ll bloom sweet-smelling violet flowers, and when autumn came Ghilan’nain’s Antlers would loosen the seeds in her blossoms and recede back into the ground until next spring. They were extremely beautiful and austere in ones and twos; to see such a mass garden of them would be quite something. And even if they were chopped down, the chance of their roots being destroyed was nearly impossible, meaning that they’d grow back again and again. They didn’t spread like weeds because of the conditions their seeds needed to be in, so the mountainside wouldn’t be covered with the plants by next year.

Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, Esquire (Finn for short), had intended to give the seeds to his mother after picking them while visiting Ariane’s clan. Then the Conclave blew up, the mages were given shelter, the Breach was sealed, and Haven was destroyed. So the married couple decided to join the Inquisition—it was for the greater good. And when Finn had overheard mages discussing the fate of Tranquils, he was overcome with the feeling that there was something he could do to at least make their graves vibrant and memorable.

His mother probably wouldn’t have appreciated Ghilan’nain’s Antlers much, anyways.

So the seeds were put in disintegrable baggies with nourishing components. For each Tranquil skull that we recovered, one Ghilan’nain’s Antler’s would grow. In the midst of an ever-growing graveyard, they would not die.

And the thought of that, the thought of their future, brought me a little happiness.

-

It was another rough night for Cullen. I had managed to catch the storm in its full effect; the fever was at its peak, he sweated through his clothes and bedsheets, and couldn’t stop retching even after everything in his stomach had been emptied. Bubs, who spent most of his days at Skyhold roaming and having his own adventures, had been with Commander Rutherford when the attack hit. Fortunately for the Mabari, most of the buildings had ropes tied to the door handles so he could go in and out whenever he pleased. He came to my room, where I was avidly reading _The Tempest—_ Hallah could have been the only possible one who dropped it off—and had me pick up my unused medicine bag and follow him.

Now the hound was laying at the base of the ladder, listening to Cullen beg and plead with me to make it stop somehow. All I could do was tell him that it’d all be okay and administer what tonics I knew would alleviate some of the illness.

I couldn’t hide the concern on my face as I patted a cool wet cloth on Cullen’s cheeks and neck. People died from withdrawals, but people died from lyrium. People. Not one of my dearest friends. Imagining him dying from such agony was…

Another violent chill wracked through Cullen’s body. He weakly cried out, trying to grab a blanket and push it away at the same time. “Let me get a healer for you, Cullen,” I pleaded, voice scratchy. “They’ll be able to make you feel better—”

 _“No,”_ he snapped harshly. “No healers. N-nobody can know about this. Nobody can see…can see me weak!”

In a helpless rage Cullen smacked a cup of water on his nightstand. It went flying through the air, spilling liquid on my pants as it went. I merely sat there, listening to the cup hit the wall on the other side of the room while Cullen panted heavily. “You shouldn’t even be here, Alaran. I don’t _want_ you here.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” I said with practiced calm. “It’s just the withdrawal talking.”

He scrunched his face up as more sweat beaded on his forehead. “I…yes. It is. I’m sorry.”

I stood and retrieved the cup so I could refill it with more water. “Bubs is going to get Solas. I trust his healing abilities and reliability. He won’t tell a soul about this if asked not to.”

“Alaran, no—”

_“Cullen.”_

Pained amber eyes met resolute violet ones. “You don’t have to be this miserable. There are people who can help. Stop thinking that you deserve some sort of punishment.”

“If…if you know what I had done, you’d—”

“Stop it.” I placed a hand on his clammy forearm and leaned forward. “Stop. Cullen, remember when I was sick? Which was not all that long ago, in actuality?” He gave a small nod. “How would you have felt if you had a way to make me feel better, but I refused because I thought I deserved what was killing me?”

“It’s not the same,” Cullen argued defensively.

“Really? Because I know I’ve done some pretty regrettable, _violent_ things in my life. Just as we all have.”

“I’m not dying, though,” he breathed, trying to force some fight into him. “Not like you were.”

I rubbed my brow before fervently saying, “If you don’t get more help to battle your withdrawals, then your name will be on just one more letter that I have to send to your family to tell them of your death. And you know how awful that is for people that you’ve _never even met._ How much worse do you think it’ll be when I have to do it for you?”

Cullen rolled his head back and hit the headboard, groaning irritably and shakily. “I’m not going to lose you,” I went on. “I’m not going watch while you slowly let yourself die.”

There was a bitter sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Do what you must.”

“Thank you.” I walked over to the ladder and whistled for Bubba. He lifted his head up and stared at me. “Bubberston, go fetch Solas and bring him here. And do be discreet about it.”

There was an affirmative grunt. Cullen had turned his head away from me, frustrated that I got my way. I breathed through my nostrils and went to my medicine bag, fishing out the play I had been reading before coming to him. “While you sit there fuming,” I said as I sat back down in the chair and opened up to the spot I paused at earlier, “I’m going to read to you.”

“I don’t want you to read to me.”

“Oh, well, too bad. It’s a story from my world. Well, a play. The guy who wrote it is famous, even though he’s been dead for centuries. But his writing was so fantastic that lives are still changed because of his words. And his name was William Shakespeare. This play is titled _The Tempest.”_

By the time Solas poked his shiny head through the floor of Cullen’s room, I had calmed the former templar by reading the lulling, rhythmical writing of the play.

 _“I prithee,_  
_Remember I have done thee_  
 _worthy service,_  
 _Told thee no lies, made thee no_  
 _mistakings, served_  
 _Without or grudge or grumblings._  
 _Thou didst promise_  
 _To bate me a full year.”_

_“Does thou forget_   
_From what a torment I did free_   
_thee?”_

As soon as I finished reading Prospero’s line I turned my gaze to Solas, who had fully climbed through. I lifted my hand in salutation and placed a bookmark between the pages. “Inquisitor,” he nodded. “You needed me?”

 _“She_ needed you,” Cullen mumbled. I shushed him and pushed his damp curls back from his forehead.

“We both need you.” I beckoned for him to come over. Solas did so, face impassive. He had thrown on one of his sweaters, this one a smoky gray. But without the high-collared tunic he wore underneath, I was able to see more of his neckline and a hint of his chest. “You have to promise me that anything said and done here will not leave this room.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” I turned back to Cullen, who was blatantly clenching his jaw to fight off the spasms. “Cullen swore off lyrium a while back and suffers from the aftereffects. I’m alright at administering this tonic and that potion and the like, I can’t combine them altogether without even more adverse effects. Is there anything you can do? Even if it’s just getting his chills to go away or settling his stomach.”

“I’m sure there’s something I can help with,” Solas said readily as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Just relax, Commander Rutherford. It’ll be alright.” A hand glowing softly with magic passed over Cullen’s torso. He immediately let out a sigh of relief.

“She wouldn’t let me say no to you coming,” Cullen told Solas with a faint, feverish grin.

“Did she give you the look?”

“Yes. Does it scare you, too?”

“I’d be a fool to not be intimidated by it. But alas, it’s what she uses to get what she wants.”

That made Cullen chuckle. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Solas continued to gently cast healing magic over the commander, who became more relaxed and less ill. I watched the process with interest; it was always a small, wonderful thing to regard Solas as he casted. There was a twitch of an eyebrow, a tug at the corner of his lips, a movement of his ears—yet still he made some of the most effective spells look easy, with his calm focus and everything.

When Cullen finally drifted off into a murmuring sleep, Solas rolled his shoulders and stood. I smiled at him and wrapped   my arms around his waist. “Thanks, dear,” I said gratefully.

He pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head. “I am glad you sent for me. Commander Rutherford’s body was in a great deal of distress. But he should rest well for the remainder of the night.”

“You’re certain? I don’t want him to be left alone if anything were to happen.”

“You have my word.”

I looked up and smiled again at Solas before letting him out of my embrace so I could collect my things. He offered to take my medicine bag for me as we descended the ladder. Bubs had seen us come down and stood so he could get out of the way. “May I ask you a question?” Solas said as my feet hit the floor.

“Yes?”

“What was the book you were reading to Cullen when I arrived?”

“Oh, this?” I held up the book that I had tucked under my arm. “Hallah left it for me. It’s called _The Tempest._ I’d say that it was one of my favorite Shakespearean plays, but that’s what I say about all of them. Ya know, I think you’d really like it. You speak in iambic pentameter, like, half of the time anyways.”

“Iambic pentameter?” Solas repeated quizzically. I gestured for him to walk with me so we wouldn’t be standing in Cullen’s office while potentially having a moment.

“Ya know, an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed one, and doing that in five sets?” We exited outside and into the early night. The stars were bright and the night was chilly but not overtly cold. I began clapping to the example I gave, emphasizing the differentiating syllable. _“_ Shall _I_ com _pare_ thee _to_ a _sum_ mer’s _day?_ Thou _art_ more _love_ ly _and_ more _tem_ per _ate.”_

Solas’ face had lit up as he listened to me. “Your world speaks the poetical language?” he inquired, voice reserved as it usually was but eyes sparking with intrigue. “I did not know this.”

“Is that what it was called in Arlathan?” I asked back. “I know most of the spirits speak it regularly.”

“Yes. There are several kinds. It helps the elven language flow better, but was most frequently used in poems and plays.”

“That’s so awesome! Yeah, we don’t actively speak the language unless it is in a poetry or theater setting, but it is very beautiful. I think you’d like Shakespeare. You seem like the type.”

“And what type is that?” Solas questioned, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. We had already come to the door that led into his rotunda. I pushed it open and stepped through.

“Stuffy, kinda arrogant but only because you know you’re smart,” I answered, coming into the small, unlit hall between the door to the battlement and the opening of Solas’ rotunda. When I slowed to a stop, Bubs grunted irritably and trotted onward, knowing what two elves liked to do when they were alone and out-of-sight. “An avid fan of the arts, a deep-thinker, and somebody who thinks their shit doesn’t stink.”

Solas’ low chuckle meant that he couldn’t disagree with my evaluation. The sound made goosebumps form on my arms. I tilted my head and regarded him fondly. “Now, are you going to kiss me or what?”

-

The week came and went in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it I was feeding the dracolisk I’d be riding to the Western Approach nice juicy slabs of meat.

“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be disturbed by this unnatural abomination or fascinated by it,” Blackwall said as he patted the neck of his own squawking reptilian.

“Do they have a miniature version of…this?” Varric asked with a grimace as he stared at the dracolisk. “Just asking for a friend.”

“We can have a stepping stool packed for you, if you’d like,” I smiled, amused at my own joke. Varric made a mocking face of his own.

“Your jokes used to be better, Al,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know,” I sighed, shoulders hunched exaggeratedly. “It’s the old age. Before you know it, I’ll be as decrepit and humorless as you are.” My eyes glued themselves to Varric’s chest and squinted. “Is that a gray chest hair I see amidst the golden meadow?”

“Ha ha, Al,” Varric jeered, but then nonchalantly glanced down at his chest just to make sure.

“It appears mine is defective,” Solas frowned, standing a few feet away from me. He had been given the one I was originally going to ride, but I wanted to make it easy on him. The mage was fair at riding harts, but wasn’t the best at riding horses and would be even worse at trying to keep on the back of a dracolisk.

“Aw, Joey, don’t listen to him,” I cooed to the verdant dracolisk standing beside Solas. His blue tongue was lolling out and there was a little whistle whenever he breathed (the dracolisk’s, not Solas’). “You’re a handsome fella.”

Hunter, my dracolisk, honked annoyedly and pushed my shoulder with his scaly snout. I tutted and turned my attention back to the jealous beast. “Don’t you fret, _Monsieur Marius,”_ I half-sang before giving him a knowing smirk. “Solas wouldn’t have been able to handle you, anyways. Because you’re a tough one, huh? Aren’t ya?” I then proceeded to roll Hunter’s head around with my hands. He made a contented rasp.

“Dorian was saying that there are patches of sand that’ll just suck you under in the Western Approach,” Blackwall said as he made sure the cinch to his saddle was tightened. “Is that true? He was fiddling with his mustache when he told me, so I’m not sure I believe him.”

“Master Pavus is a famed exaggerator with a flair for the dramatic,” I replied as I swung myself into the saddle. Hunter immediately tried to get feisty with me, but I dug my heels into him and asserted who was boss. “That being said, I’m pretty sure he was telling the truth. The Western Approach is a giant deathtrap; one misstep and people with mistake your hair for a plant.” I glanced at Solas’ shiny dome. “Or rock, depending on your circumstance.”

“You know there’s phoenixes there too?” Varric groaned as he clambered into the saddle with the help of a stable hand. “Thanks, kid,” he muttered appreciatively to them before continuing. “Phoenixes, Al!”

“And varghests, and quillbacks, and hyenas—did you know that we have hyenas on Earth, too? Oh, hey, cool fact for you guys: did you know the way that hyenas give birth is really fucking disgusting and awesome—”

“Inquisitor Lavellan!”

The four of us swiveled our heads to watch a red-haired dwarf running towards us with something tucked under her arm. “Dagna!” I proclaimed jovially, “whatcha got for me? I’m assuming that is for me, right?”

“Yes,” she gasped as she came to a stop. Her face was pink and she was breathing heavily. “Oh, boy, I…I really got to get out of the undercroft, don’t I?” Dagna somewhat wheezed. “But, ah, any…anyways, I made you something! I wanted to give it to you before…you left.”

The arcanist lifted up the wrapped item to me. As I opened it, Hunter lowered his head to sniff Dagna. She only giggled and scratched his jaw. It produced a pleasant coo from him and he kept his head there to let her continue. Meanwhile, I grinned as I beheld a shiny new helmet for me to look badass in.

It was the same one the promo Inquisitor wore for the game when its trailer had been released. A dragon’s head sat where my forehead was, its spiked and scaled back running on the top. Wings came forward to protect my face, but there was enough room for me to breathe and see clearly. “I made sure there was enough room for your spectacles,” Dagna explained, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “And there’s some soft padding so it won’t bother you. I made sure the material was breathable, especially since you’re going to the Western Approach! Try it on! I wanna see how it looks!”

I did as she asked, which elicited a small squeal from her. “Oh, it looks incredible! But how does it feel?”

“For a helmet? It feels pretty good,” I replied as I twisted my head around. “It does create some blind spots, but not nearly as bad as so many other kinds. It’s light and doesn’t pinch any hair. And, most importantly, I’m able to wear my glasses comfortably underneath.” I smiled at Dagna through the helmet. “Another amazing item you’ve crafted. Good job, sistah.” I leaned down and held out my knuckle for Dagna to bump. She hit it with her own. Now, not only did I have a sweet helmet from the eccentric and brilliant dwarf, but also a set of armor that was suitable to wear in the scorching desert. Within the span of a week, Dagna crafted a set for me and for all of those who would be joining on the quest. Sera was initially going to go with us as well, but some Red Jenny business popped up that I wanted her to be involved with. But thanks to our little arcane genius, the miserable trip to the Western Approach would be a little less uncomfortable.

A crowd had gathered to see us off. I began waving and smiling like the Princess of Fucking Genovia, but I saw Vivienne watching me disapprovingly and let my hand drop. She brought her hands up to below her chest as she breathed in and straightened her back. I realized that my posture was a little slumped, so I quickly fixed it and sat rigidly in my saddle. Vivienne gave me a fond, friendly look few saw before turning and gliding away. The crowd automatically parted for her.

I spotted more of my friends amidst the people waving and hoping to catch my attention. Cassandra was standing next to Dorian, Sera was on top of Bull’s shoulders, and Bull himself held Bubberston in his arms. The desert wouldn't agree with my baby boy, so I opted to have him stay at Skyhold. I caught a glimpse of Cole before he was gone _._ Cullen stood on the battlement nearest to his office, offering a small wave to me. Since I could only look regal and confident without using my hands, I nodded his way. Our gazes were similar: grim-faced. He had probably been on his way to meet with Josephine and Leliana before stopping to watch us leave. While I was gone, the three advisers would be preparing for the worst-case scenario.

A war. A battle. A siege. A march.

Conflict.

The Inquisition—a newly formed organization birthed from devastation and chaos to protect Thedas—was going against the Grey Wardens—an ancient order birthed from devastation and chaos to protect Thedas.

 _“This is going to fuck me in the ass,”_ I whispered to myself as we rode through the gates and past the safety of Skyhold.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I the only one who thought Finn and Ariane were the BEST PEOPLE EVER?? They were what made Witch Hunt so bearable. In case you couldn't tell, either, but I can't get enough of Solas/Al fluff.
> 
> And just a hint (because I'm too excited to keep it a secret) but it wasn't a coincidence that Vivienne and Cassandra talk about the mage who the templars failed to make Tranquil. 
> 
> Next chapter is Adamant. And hoo boy, it's gonna be a batch of turmoil. Just sayin.
> 
> Hope everybody is staying lovely!!


	50. Bitch, Where's the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets up in Adamant and the Fade

The Western Approach was shit. Sealing rifts every five steps was shit. Stepping into a cloud of sulfuric poison was shit. Walking through sand was shit. Fighting off phoenixes were shit. Getting sunburnt was shit (especially since I had never been sunburnt in Thedas before Haven).

Discovering what the Grey Wardens were up to was a **crock** of shit.

All of us were in some state of shell-shock. My entire left arm still throbbed painfully from when Erimond tried to manipulate the Anchor. But at least I hadn’t been affected by blood magic when it was used on them, unlike the others who weren’t as fortunate.

As I concisely wrote a message back to Skyhold informing the advisers that Inquisition forces were to march to Adamant Fortress immediately (making sure that commas and semicolons were placed correctly), I simultaneously replayed the scene in my head image for image.

_“Watch out!” Alistair shouted as he charged for a Grey Warden who was slicing their palm. Before he could reach them, a dark substance spurted forth and shot through the air. It wasn’t like Merrill’s blood magic; she used hers efficiently and to her benefit. The Warden’s own blood wrapped its tendrils around the Veil itself and spread a tangible, tainted darkness. It ensnared everybody and tried to do the same to me—but only slid off like all other types of magic._

_The screams of my friends rang across the desert as blood magic entered their vulnerable systems and twisted their bodies. I seemed to witness Cassandra convulsing violently on the ground and Hawke lifted into the air with his back bent at an unholy angle at the same time, even though they were nearly opposite from each other._

_There was a moment when the world blackened. I could only hear my friends’ raw, agonizing cries as they felt themselves dying._

_The light returned only after the Grey Warden’s head was removed from their shoulders by my sword. I had cleaved with such force that some of their vertebrae strung along behind the decapitation. The demon that the Warden was leashed to tried attacking me, but I sent it back to the Fade with a single thrust of my greatsword._

_Alistair dry heaved and Cassandra let out a pained, single sob. Hawke couldn’t feel his feet before Solas was composed enough to heal him, and Varric and Blackwall were deathly silent. When everybody could stand again, infighting ensued until I stopped it and ordered everyone to go back to camp._

Now all of them were recuperating in their own tents, trying to shake the feeling of violation. I exhaled tiredly and signed the letter before stamping my seal on the paper and rolling it up. Wiping the sweat on my brow, I stood and exited the tent. It was just past dark, but some light still bled into the sky. Past that was a smattering of bright stars.

“Get this to Skyhold for me, will you?” I requested to an Inquisition soldier. He was a younger man, face red and peeling from the blistering heat of the desert. The color enhanced his bright blue eyes.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he replied, taking the message from me. His accent was unmistakably Nevarran.

“Be sure to put some sun salve on your face, too,” I said with a tone of motherliness. He gave me a sheepish smile and ducked his head in a nod.

“I will.”

As the soldier turned to attach my message to a raven, I let my calm façade ebb away. Within two weeks he could be dead—dead alongside other Inquisition soldiers who laid siege to Adamant Fortress.

How many would never return to Skyhold? How many would die in this wasteland?

I realized I had been standing in place for longer than what was normal, staring into the pale green flame of veilfire Solas had ignited in place of an actual one. With a sigh, I turned and went back to my tent, grabbed a change of clothes, a towel, some washing products, and exited again. I crossed to the tent diagonal from mine and lightly slapped on the entrance. There was a grunt and the shuffle of feet from within. I took a step back and waited until Solas pulled the tent flap back. He had dark circles under his eyes and a hollowed demeanor, proving to me once again just how damaging blood magic was. “Ah,” he said with an attempted smile, “Alaran. What do you require?”

“There’s a spring down past camp that the Inquisition secured for bathing. I was thinking that we could go and cool off there? Nobody should be around because it’s dark.” There was a flush on my neck that wasn’t from the sun.

“Are you sure?” Though Solas didn’t look unwilling, there was no particular excitement about him.

“About nobody being around? I’m almost positive.”

“That,” Solas said quietly, “and…”

My brow twitched. “Going together? Yeah. I mean, unless you don’t want to. Which is perfectly fine with me, I’m—”

“Hold on a moment,” Solas cut in kindly. He retreated back into his tent, leaving me to wait and awkwardly stand around. The camp was eerily silent; it was like everyone knew what was coming. What we were going to have to do.

Solas slipped past the flap, similar things tucked under his arm like mine. Wordlessly we began the short walk down to the spring, which was hidden in a small canyon. We required no light; our nocturnal vision enabled us to see in the dark. As soon as Solas and I were far enough away, I tenderly placed my arm around Solas’ back. He let out a breath and returned the gesture by putting his own arm over my shoulders.

“Are you alright? From today?” I asked him as we walked.

He was silent for a bit before answering. “You are fortunate that you will never experience the horrors that blood magic enacts upon your body. To directly control someone through the method is…a severe intrusion. The pain is indescribable, especially when your bones are twisted unwillingly. When it leaves, you are left feeling as though some part of you is missing. As if your body is not your own.”

I felt my demeanor become solemn. “It proves why so many fear blood magic above all else,” Solas ended.

_I understand,_ I wanted to say, _even though I’ve never been manipulated by blood magic. I know what it’s like to be violated. To be stripped of your identity in a matter of moments._

Instead, though, I clung a little more tightly to Solas despite the sunburn that chafed my arms. “How is your skin?” he prompted, trying to change the dark subject.

“Fried,” I replied with a weak laugh. “Before I was woven into everything I was never affected by the sun. Now my pastiness is getting the special treatment.”

“The water should help,” Solas said as he pressed a kiss to my temple. “And you have mentioned your desire to be somewhat tan; maybe now you’ll finally have the chance.”

That made the both of us chuckle. We descended the sandy slope to the entrance of the canyon, and soon saw moonlight reflecting off the calm waters of the spring. I had been correct; not a single soul was around. Hyenas cackled in the distance, but most of the desert animals avoided the sudden activity from the Inquisition camp we were stationed at.

I hummed at the view and began laying my items atop one of the medium-sized boulders most likely moved here by previous soldiers. Nobody liked laying their things in the hot sand so all sorts of crawlies could creep into. The rocks had been placed near the water’s edge, making it convenient to grab things while not having to walk back out into the sand.

Neither of us spoke as we both stripped of our clothing. The night was too beautiful, too serene, and our thoughts were too convoluted to make any real conversation. I should have been making some kind of awkward joke to calm my nerves, but that had method had slowly been working its way out of me. It was almost worrisome; I was more mature than I was even at the start of the Inquisition, but the duty was taking a toll on me. And who was I without my sense of humor?

Somebody not me.

The selfish concern I had about my own personality was dashed as soon as I glanced at the naked elf a few feet away. I felt no eyes on me, but Solas’ presence alone was enough to make me feel…things.

I shivered once and focused on the still waters in front of me. The blanket of stars that reflected on its surface danced and moved as I waded in. Now there were eyes on my naked back, seeing the scars, the taut muscles, dimples just above my bare butt. The water cooled the heat rising inside me. My brain couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or confident, leaving me slow-moving and having no clue as to what I was doing.

Sand squished between my toes as I moved deeper into the spring, fingers gliding over the glassy water. There was the sound of Solas entering from behind me, but I refrained from looking around. I kept moving until I was up to my waist. The largest moon was but a sliver in the sky, so there was hardly a shadow cast by the canyon wall. As I looked down at the pool I was in, I saw the hazy, glorious path of the galaxy wrapping itself around this planet.

A small gasp was elicited from me when I felt Solas’ hand press itself against my back. My eyes fluttered shut as his warm body became close. We were nearly side-by-side; Solas stood slightly behind, just enough that the front of his right hip brushed the back of my thigh. If I dipped my hand beneath the surface, I’d find his shaft almost instantly.

Except I didn’t move my hand underwater. I didn’t move at all. My fingers continued to hover amidst the mirrored starlight as I listened for Solas’ heartbeat, for his breath against my ear.

The hand on my back trailed up my spine, creating goosebumps as it went until Solas reached the bottom tuft of my braid. He slowly worked the cord holding it until it came loose, and then began to unweave the plait of white hair. The intimate affection of fingers running themselves through my hair made my head turn upwards as tension I never knew I had was released. The strands tickled my bare back, which always arched a fraction whenever Solas hit the right spot on my scalp with his fingertips or tugged a small portion of my hair.

When I opened my eyes again I was gazing at the real night sky, basking in its breathtaking splendor as the heavens revealed themselves.

Then I was turning, shifting in the water to face Solas. I wore no mask to guard my expression, and yet I had no idea what expression I even _wore._ The state of existence I was in had never been touched until now.

And he looked at me as though…as though the heavens above and below us could not compare to what he beheld right in front of him.

After our bodies intertwined, after I felt his length rest between my thighs, after his hands found themselves memorizing my figure, I knew I wasn’t ready. There were a million reasons to say yes, to allow myself to become _more…_ but just one reason to say no. I couldn’t be intimate with Solas. Not just yet.

Understanding shone through Solas’ demeanor as I told him that I didn’t want to go further. I think a part of him knew that sex wasn’t going to be an option tonight, even when I did not. He promised me that I didn’t need to apologize—that I should give consent when I felt ready. At some point in the conversation he made me laugh, which broke the star-struck spell we had found ourselves in. After that, Solas and I relaxed into a much carefree mode. We washed and talked about constellations and enjoyed each other’s company. What made it so special to me was that it wasn’t really, ya know, special. It was just Solas and me, being… _us._ Together. It didn’t matter the circumstance.

I wouldn’t want anybody else standing beside me as we waited for a full-scale siege to take place in the heart of the desert.

-

Two weeks and three days. That’s how long it took for the Inquisition army to arrive. The rest of the Inner Circle had joined and provided a little relief on my stress levels. Bubs had been left at Skyhold on my order; I loved and trusted my hound with my life, but I wasn’t about to let anything happen to him. And there was no stopping the daunting reality that whatever victory we achieved against the Grey Wardens would not keep us from grieving over those lost during the battle.

_These soldiers know the cost if we do nothing,_ I reminded myself as I watched over a thousand men and women of all different races and ethnicities march through the winding desert road to Adamant. _Giving up their lives will prevent the destruction of Thedas._

But the greater good was not always the most comforting notion.

Everything happened too quickly, too efficiently. By nightfall trebuchets were catapulting fiery missiles into the walls of Adamant, which stood gallantly against its enemies. Yet it was too old to have been built to withstand modern warfare technology, and its defenses eventually came crashing down. I let Cullen do his duty as Commander of the Inquisition by directing the methods of attack, and only gave my input when he asked it of me.

And then…then it was go time.

“Alright, everybody, are you ready to rock the clock?” I asked the nine Inner Circle members as we stood anxiously behind the front line.

“Too hot, too hollow, if I fail then—” Cole stared plainly, but I made a loud noise to cut him off.

“Not now, baby boy,” I said kindly.

“Told ya he shouldn’t ‘ave come along,” Sera scowled as she leered at Cole.

“He’s part of our team,” I said resolutely. “You should all do well to remember that. We are a team. We know each other’s flaws and weaknesses better than our enemies do. That being said, I expect you to use that knowledge to our advantage to protect one another.”

The main entrance of Adamant was destroyed with an adrenaline-rushing **_crack._** “That’s our cue,” I said, half-looking over my shoulder. I placed my hand in the center of the circle we formed. _“Leroy Jenkins_ on three,” I told them.

“What?” Dorian repeated.

_“Leroy Jenkins!_ It’s something heroes would scream before charging into battle on Earth,” I explained. “Hurry! There’s a flipping siege going on!”

Hands were tentatively put in. “You gotta scream it,” I growled with a sharp grin. “You gotta _feel_ it in your bones! There’s a fucking siege happening! With _demons!_ And if that’s not enough for you to say _Leroy Jenkins,_ then just do it for me so I can get a good laugh!”

And Cassandra, who asked the serious questions of the group, said, “On three or after three?”

“After three, actually,” I huffed. “Ready? One! _Two! THREE!”_

And, _much_ to my amusement, several cries of “Leroy Jenkins!” rose into the smoky, dusty night sky. I thrust both fists into the air and shouted, “Let’s kick ass!”

Less than a heartbeat passed until we found ourselves following behind the rest of the vanguard. The skirmish ended before we were even into the front courtyard, but the scent of death, fire hung in the air. The weakened state of the Veil was nearly tangible. If I wanted, I could open a rift with the twitch of my fingers.

“Pull back!” One of the Grey Wardens cried from the rampart above us. “They’re through!”

Cullen pushed through the rest of the soldiers, his lion’s helm under his arm and curly hair sweat-slicked. “Alright, Inquisitor. You have your way in. Best make use of it. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.”

“I’ll be fine, Cullen,” I assured, voice already rough from the stress. “Just keep the men safe.”

“We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor,” Cullen said instead of promising me that he would. “Warden Alistair will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. He’s assisting them until you arrive. But there’s too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold.” He jerked his head up to the demons crowding the walls above us. “If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.”

I gave a tight nod and gave a thumbs up before turning to the Inner Circle. “You heard the man. Bull, Vivienne, Varric—eastern ramparts. Blackwall, Cole, Solas—central ramparts. Cassandra, Sera, Dorian—with me to take back the western.”

Under any other circumstance there would have been resistance to my pairings, but all I got were quick nods. “And what about me, ma’am?” Alistair questioned as he came forward. “I’m better at following, not taking charge, in case you haven’t noticed already.”

“Go with the central rampart team. All of us will meet back up outside the main courtyard once the walls are cleared. That’s where most of the Grey Wardens have grouped, according to reports. Save as many Wardens as you can—I’m positive there will be some who aren’t aligned with what’s going on. Is that clear? Good.” I put my helmet on and unsheathed my sword. “Kisses, babes. I love all of you.”

With that we split up. There were two moods that I could have been in—completely stoic or awkwardly humorous. I chose the latter simply because if I was grim then I had a harder time leading and rallying everyone.

We charged through the battlements, cleaving and casting our way through enemy lines. The number of demons seemed to be never-ending, combined with the Grey Wardens’ dark magic and the weakness of the Veil. The Wardens who pleaded with us to not take their lives were heartbreakingly relieved that they would be spared. Clarel’s actions brought the wrath of the Inquisition down upon them, and had probably given in to the same soldiers who killed their former friends just minutes before.

Corruption spread rampant throughout Adamant. The smell of Blighted blood coated the back of my throat, and too-dark blood and miasma glazed on my blade. I’d have activated the fire rune, but it would have only made the stench worse. As we cleared out last of the demons and Grey Wardens before turning and bolting it to the main courtyard at the heart of the fortress, I noted that the siege had been sickeningly successful. Bodies piled against the stone, Warden and Inquisition alike. Pools of black essence from the demons slicked the floors, and empty healing, mana, and stamina potions could be spotted every which way. It was a ghastly sight. I should have been sick looking at it all, but I only felt a type of blunt despair. There was nothing I could do but press forward and try to stop this madness before nobody was left alive to recover and rebuild.

Hawke was with everyone else as Cass, Sera, Dorian, and I showed up outside the barred gates of the courtyard. Beyond, I could hear a woman talking to the Wardens. “Sorry for the delay,” I apologized brusquely. “One of the passages collapsed from a catapult. We had to find another way around.”

“Let’s get in there,” Alistair said, voice muffled from the winged helm he wore. “I fear we’re already too late.”

“The doors are barred,” Blackwall affirmed gruffly. “Who wants to knock it down?”

“I got this one,” Hawke volunteered. We moved so we all stood behind him and watched as the mage used his force magic to blast through the entrance. The doors shattered into a million splinters, leaving nothing but broken chunks of wood in its wake. Any normal mage should have been exhausted of mana by now, but Garrett had a surprisingly deep well. He could be casting left and right continuously for an hour before using lyrium.

Once the falling debris cleared, all of us were moving through and into the space where the rest of the Wardens had gathered. I took my helm off, feeling sand immediately coat my sweaty skin. The Veil was stretched extremely thin. The last time I felt it in such a similar state was after the Chantry explosion in Kirkwall.

The weakened Wardens drew their weapons against us, but kept back at a safe distance. Standing on a balcony above them was an older woman I assumed was Clarel…and, of course, Erimond. “Stop them!” The magister yelled. “We must complete the ritual!”

Half of my companions began to lunge forward for the attack, but when I saw that the Wardens were still hesitant I held up my hand to disengage them. “Clarel!” I yelled, voice skimming across the Veil. “If you complete that ritual, you’ll be aiding in the destruction of Thedas! You’re serving the _Blight itself!”_

Clarel froze. “Don’t listen to her,” Erimond spat. “They do not know the sacrifices the Wardens made for doing their duty!”

“What does she mean, we’re serving the Blight?” Clarel asked with sudden doubt.

“Your Tevinter mage is binding the mages to Corypheus!” Alistair bellowed.

She paled so visibly I could see it from even at my distance. “Corypheus?” Clarel repeated. “But…but he’s dead!”

“These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel,” Erimond spoke, pointing accusingly at us. The Warden-Commander rubbed her forehead. It was a similar action I had done so many times I no longer realized when I was doing it. When her hand dropped and her eyes opened, I saw the resolve. The resolve to continue with their original, misguided intent.

“Bring it through,” she commanded the enslaved Warden mages.

They did her bidding and tore the Veil. I gaped at the monstrosity that lay on the other side, waiting for the opportunity to come into the Waking World and wreak havoc among the living.

“Please!” Hawke begged fiercely. “I have seen more than my share of blood magic! It is never worth the cost!” His voice carried through the courtyard, strong and unbending. “Stop this madness! Don’t you see that this is wrong? That this is not the way of your Order?”

“Wardens!” I joined in. “You’ve seen what the binding does to the mages! Their souls are gone. All that remains are shells.” There were murmurings among the ranks, but nobody stepped forward. “Listen to me!” I continued, trying not to verge on desperation. “I have no quarrel with the Wardens! I have spared those I could! I don’t want to kill you, but you’re being used…and some of you know it, don’t you?”

An older Warden finally spoke. “The mages who’ve done the ritual? They’re not right. They were my friends. But now they’re like puppets on a string.”

“You cannot let fear sway your mind, Warden Chernoff!” Clarel proclaimed.

“He’s not afraid,” Hawke said to her. There was a thunder to her. “You are. You’re afraid that you ordered all these brave men and women to die for nothing.”

“If this were a fight against future Blights, I would be at your side!” Alistair put in. “But it’s a _lie!”_

Erimond turned quickly to Clarel, saying things that I couldn’t hear. When she responded, though, the look on his face was clear. She was beginning to back down.

His lips snarled and he began grating his staff against the stone. “My master thought you might come here, Inquisitor!” Erimond yelled. “He sent me this to welcome you!”

There as a metallic, unnatural roar that shook the ruined fortress. All heads jerked up to the night sky, where a shadow blotted out the stars. Wingbeats cut through the hot air, and red lyrium riddled the electricity pooling from its mouth. Corypheus’ dragon landed on one of the towers looming against the courtyard and roared again.

I couldn’t move for a few moments. I was back in Haven, back in the chaos and death. Just when I shook the terror, the dragon opened its maw and reared back to blast everything in sight.

“Clarel, wait!” Erimond suddenly exclaimed. I jerked my head over to the balcony, seeing the Warden-Commander aim her staff at the corrupted dragon and shoot a jet of lighting right in its chest. The beast emitted a screech and took to the air to shake off the magic.

“Help the Inquisitor!” Clarel ordered before taking off after Erimond.

A pride demon and a few lesser shades were summoned, but because we suddenly had Wardens on our side we made quick work of it all. Then we were running, dodging the aerial attacks from the dragon while trying to make our way up to the top of Adamant fortress where Erimond had fled to. And even though I _hoped_ that we’d make it in time to do anything to help, my gut told me that we wouldn’t.

My fears were confirmed as I watched Clarel get taken up in the dragon’s jaws and thrown brokenly before us. Then it started advancing, the acrid stench of rot pouring from its hot breath. “Get back, everybody!” I commanded. Then I brandished my sword and stood my ground.

“Inquisitor—!” one of the companions began (I wasn’t sure who) but before they finished one last spell erupted from where Clarel lie and propelled into the stomach of the dragon. It screeched and immediately began to frantically flap its wings. The stonework had been damaged in the attack, too, and shuddered as it started to give way. When the dragon tried pushing off into the air, the stone crumbled and fell apart.

“RUN!” I screamed. Since I was the first one onto the top bridge, it made me the last one who was fleeing. The ground suddenly became loose beneath my feet, causing a foot to catch on the uneven stone and trip. Alistair, who was beside me, had the same thing happen to him and fell. Unlike me, though, his foot became trapped between blocks. I shouted his name and stumbled over to help the Warden, but I could already see black gaps beneath us. Somebody cried out my name—it might have been Varric—but we were already falling, falling, falling through the debris-riddled air.

I stretched forth my left hand, hoping that the twelve percent of the plan I formulated worked. Power channeled painfully through my arm and swirled into the center of the Anchor. As soon as there was enough of a charge, I shot the energy out. It tore through the Veil and **cracked** through reality. The snapback was so jarring that I lost consciousness as a world of green enveloped me.

-

“If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology,” Hawke said, his voice making me open my eyes. “This looks nothing like the Maker’s bosom.”

“No,” Solas said, “this is the Fade.”

I groaned and rolled over on the rock I was on, only to find that I was looking at everybody upside down. It was dizzying and I felt a roil of nausea—until I suddenly dropped on the “ground.” Hands gripped my arms and hauled me upright.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra breathed, “are you okay?”

“More or less,” I replied with a wince. Looking around, I saw that Alistair and Blackwall were also with us. We had been the closest to the destruction, so I hoped that we were the only ones that had fallen through and the rest made it to safety.

“What happened?” the Warden questioned as he looked around at our surreal surroundings.

“The Inquisitor opened a rift,” Solas said for me. “We seem to be the only ones who came through…and survived.” The last bit of his sentence was spoken with a small amount of awe. He gestured to a small, distance place floating in the stormy verdant sky. “Look. The Black City, almost close enough to touch.”

“Mmm, I’ll pass,” I said dryly. “This must be very exciting for you, Solas. Any advice you have on what exactly is going on would be wonderful.”

Solas, so overwhelmed with where he were, asked, “What spirit commands this place? I have never seen anywhere like it.”

“It’s not how I remember the Fade, either,” Hawke added. He was still standing on one of the floating rocks with their own source of gravity. “Perhaps it’s because we’re here physically, instead of just dreaming.” He craned his head around to look at me below him. “The stories say you walked out of the Fade. Was it like this?”

“Don’t remember,” I answered. “And for good reason, it looks like. This place is a shithole. I give it one out of five stars, would not recommend to anybody. But I’ll write a disgruntled review later; right now, getting out safely should be the priority.” I began taking a few steps forward. “That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others.”

“In the real world, the rift with the demons in it was nearby,” Alistair said. “In the main hall. Can we get out the same way?”

“It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?” I pointed off to the horizon, where there was a clear disturbance. “There. Let’s go.”

-

Weird things were in the raw Fade. The spirit of Divine Justinia, my memories of encountering both her and Corypheus at the Conclave, broken eluvians, inscriptions from throughout history, a fear demon telling everyone doubts from their own minds, and a graveyard with all the Inner Circle’s greatest fears inscribed on the stone.

Each of us stood over them. Cassandra, helplessness. Blackwall, himself. Solas, dying alone. Garrett, Kirkwall. Alistair, the Calling.

And my headstone? The one in the center with dead lavender placed atop it?

In all caps, engraved in the stone and in my soul, was a single word.

_FEAR._

I stood in front of it, fists clenched, teeth gritted, knees shaking. Then I was reeling my leg back behind me, a growl bubbling in my throat.

“Alaran, what are you—” Cassandra started, but got her answer as she saw me kick the gravestone one, two, three times before it shattered into dust.

“Fuck you,” I said to the remains of something that tried to get to me. “And fuck you!” I shouted, flipping off the green realm of the Fade. “Ugh, guys, let’s just go.”

I started storming off, bracing my body for when Fear would speak to me next. Though the others had played off its words to them, I saw how shaken they were on the inside.

_“Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your “faith” has been for naught.”_

_“Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din.”_

_“Ah, there’s nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are **nothing** like a Grey Warden.”_

_“Did the king’s bastard think he could prove himself? It’s far too late for that. Your whole life you’ve left everything to more capable hands. The Archdemon, the throne of Ferelden…Who will you hide behind now?”_

_“Do you think it mattered, Hawke? Do you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? You’re a failure, and your family died knowing it.”_

All had given quips and replies, but there was an emotional weariness that grew more visible with each minute.

We made it to the top of a black staircase when something birthed from the black, glistening rocks. I stopped, staring, unable to move as I watched something crawl out on spindly, bony limbs. Gray skin stretched over its large, unnatural body. Three eyes, black orbs with no end to them, stared back at me. Then it unhinged its bone-eating jaw and went _click, click, click._

It lunged, hulking body bending in ways that shouldn’t be possible. I couldn’t do anything— _anything—_ for I had frozen in sheer terror. I couldn’t even scream.

Just as one of its great claws came down on me, the _thing_ was shot with a spear of ice. It wailed deafeningly and crumpled in on itself, dissipating into nothing.

_It’s not the real thing. It’s not real._

That shook me of my trance and I charged into action, fighting another one of the creatures that formed to the right of me. This one was smaller and less horrifying They were images of the Fade, minions that formed to whatever fear somebody had. Everyone seemed to be battling their own versions—they fought the gray monsters of the Frozen Wastes with more panic than normal.

It was over as quickly as it began. I braced myself against the rock, trying not to collapse or puke. Or collapse _in_ my puke. “What…” Cassandra panted, “what _were_ those?”

“I hate spiders,” Hawke grumbled as he leaned on his staff. Black hair stuck to his damp forehead.

“Spiders?” Blackwall repeated incredulously. “Is that what you saw?”

“Each fear to their own,” I breathed, turning so I could lean my back against the rock. “Everybody saw something different, I’m guessing?” Everyone nodded. “Awesome.” I felt the pulse on my neck and found that it was racing wildly. “Let’s calm down for a minute before heading out again.”

“Agreed,” Solas said.

“So,” Alistair huffed after a short pause, “I saw Blighted ghouls, Hawke saw spiders. What’d everyone else see?”

“Maggots,” Cassandra said darkly.

“I couldn’t even describe what I saw,” I muttered. “I wouldn’t know the name for it. But I hoped that I’d never see anything like it again.”

“I’d prefer not to answer,” said Solas.

“Me either,” Blackwall seconded.

Alistair tiredly shrugged his shoulders. “Understandable.”

The rest of the minute passed in tense silence, leaving us to listen to the random howls and hisses of the Fade. When we started walking again, I noticed that my feet were trying to drag.

_“Ah, Alaran,”_ Fear suddenly purred. I looked up at the tumultuous sky, scowling. _“You have such lovely, wholesome fears. Some that riddle deep inside you. I could feast upon what keeps you awake at night for an entire **age.”**_ His chuckle was so human that it sent shivers down my spine. _“Where would I begin? Perhaps at your parents—so cruel and unloving, yet you see your father in your actions, your thoughts. When will the day come when you wake up and see him in the mirror? Or maybe your hunger for power. That was why Bod never harmed you; he could align himself with your characteristics. The Gallows, the Chantry, the Frozen Wastes—so many new fears formed while here in Thedas. How can you lead when you’re so consumed by **me?”**_

“Oh, just shut the hell up,” I moaned irritably. “I don’t have time for your shit.”

_“No, you don’t have enough time, do you? You won’t be able to accomplish enough, to do enough, until you find yourself in a foreign afterlife.”_

My eyes rolled as I emitted a groan. “Are you done, now? Or is this a game of Marco-Polo, where we figure out where you are while you speak?”

“Alaran,” Solas said lowly, “do not fuel it.”

_“Always the jokester, Alaran Lavellan. But how many times were there when no joke would come to mind? When your family left Kirkwall, when the alienages burned, when the secrets spilled.”_

“The only joke here is you and your janky-ass voice.”

_“I will always be with you,”_ he sneered. _“Even if you manage to escape my domain here in the Fade, you will never be rid of me. I rule you. I rule your thoughts, your deeds, your emotions. You’re—”_

“Wait, wait, hold up,” I interrupted, veering to the left and examining a piece of the rock wall. Something had caught my eye, and I wanted to make sure that it was just a figment of my imagination. _“Was ist das? Qu’est-ce que c’est?”_

“Inquisitor?” Blackwall said warily. I was sure that to everybody else, my behavior may have seemed a bit _unhinged._ They were probably worried that I lost it somewhere along Fear’s incessant talking.

“Solas, come look at this,” I said as I peered at the inscription, completely slack-jawed.

He joined my side, looking at where I was pointing at. “What…” he began, stopped, then started again. “What manner of language is that?”

The others had joined, completely forgetting Fear. “I-it’s…” I sputtered, “it’s something in English. Solas, it’s _written_ in English. _My_ language. That’s freaking English!”

“What does it say, then?” asked Cassandra. As soon as I comprehended the fact that I was looking at my original written language, I began to shriek with laughter. The pealing sounds bounced off the small canyon we were in and contrasted sharply against the character of the Fade.

“It says,” I managed to gasp, “it says: _The Fade can suck DEEZ NUTS!”_ Saying it out loud made me nearly roll over with more laughter. I clutched my stomach and stumbled away, unable to grasp that somebody—somebody from _Earth—_ had been here physically in the Fade, and took the time to carve into the rock that single statement.

“Inquisitor Lavellan may have lost it,” Alistair observed as I doubled over. The laughter was verging onto soundless, choking noises as my hands clapped together. Whatever troubled feelings I was having when Fear was trying to get to me were gone, now, replaced by everything on the opposite side of the spectrum. When I was finally able to get a grip on myself, everybody was laughing on some levels just because I was.

Maybe it was Hallah who carved it in there, knowing that I’d see it at the right place and time. Or maybe it was some unfortunate Otherworlder who got trapped here unwillingly. Either way, it made a great difference in our demeanors. My feet had stopped dragging, and Fear remained silent.

-

_If you would, please tell Leliana, “I am sorry. I failed you, too.”_

The Divine’s last words rang in my ears even after I watched Blackwall, Solas, and Cassandra book it to the rift that led to the main hall. Hawke had been injured in the battle with one of the lesser fear demons and was being supported by Alistair. It wouldn’t have been a serious wound, but we were out of every potion stocked up. Solas, who was our healer of the Inner Circle, had been depleted of mana and couldn’t assist like he wanted. I always told Hawke that he needed to take a few lessons from Anders, but he never listened. Never fucking listened.

I turned and clambered down the rocky terrain to help them, but from the shocked looks on their faces something not good was suddenly behind me. As soon as I reached them, I turned to face the behemoth-sized demon, which had recovered from the original blast by Divine Justinia. It was staring us down with a hundred milky eyes, pincers clacking together and daring us to try and get to the rift it now blocked.

“How do we get by?” Alistair questioned dazedly. I pushed my glasses up my nose out of sheer habit. Somewhere behind me lay my helmet, half-destroyed by a malicious swipe from the fear demon.

“Go,” Hawke grunted, “I’ll cover you.”

“No. You were right. The Wardens caused this mess. A Warden must—”

“A Warden must help them rebuild! That’s _your_ job!” The Champion looked back at the demon, golden eyes glowing. “Corypheus is mine.”

“That makes no _fucking_ sense!” I hissed. “Corypheus is out there, not in here dinking around! Hawke, Alistair, get your asses through that rift. I’ll take care of this thing.”

“You’re the Inquisitor, Alaran!” Hawke argued, even though there was absolutely _no time_ to do so. “You have to go! Right now!”

“No!” I shouted, furiously shaking my head. “I’m not leaving you! Either of you! So you can just—” During the time that I was speaking, Garrett and Alistair exchanged similar looks with one another. Then, in a blur, I was full-force punched in the face by Hawke. His gauntlet broke my right lens and made me see a combination of white stars and black spots. As I fell backwards, Alistair caught me and threw me over his shoulder, unaffected by my amour and sword. He ducked under the atrocity that tried to stop us and booked it for the rift.

“Garrett,” I croaked, trying to lift my head up and call for him. Blood was streaming down my face, skin broken by the blow dealt to me. “Garrett, please…”

But he was out-of-sight. Alistair dove through the rift with me in tow, and then I was being set down on my feet. We were back in the main courtyard at Adamant, standing in front of the rift. Somebody—Cullen, I think—took my arm and raised it to the tear. The pull of the rift instantly brought my Anchor to life and made the connection without my focus. I could only watch in horror as the air was sealed with a _snap,_ leaving no trace of the other side.

Reality crashed down on me all at once. “HAWKE!” I cried raggedly. “HAWKE!”

“He’s gone, Inquisitor!” Alistair barked in my ear. He was still holding me upright. “He’s gone.”

_“No.”_

The single word was unleashed with such ferocity I couldn’t believe it came from my own body. I shoved Alistair back, using more force than I intended. He was floored, barely catching himself with his arms.

Then I was striding forward, matching the place in the Fade where the massive demon stood only seconds ago. It couldn’t have moved more than a few feet. The courtyard was void of cheers and celebration; all the soldiers were too anxious to see what I was doing.

“Alaran!” Solas shouted from behind me. There was real desperation in his voice. “Don’t do this! You’re not strong—”

But I already lifted my hand and **forced** the Mark’s energy to spill out. With the battle over and magic dissipated, the Veil was stronger, now. It was like cutting through plywood with a butter knife, but I could not be swayed. I watched a new rift break through the air, shooting into the sky like a lightning bolt and reaching the height of the fortress itself.

The power that I summoned could hardly be contained. Pain lanced through my left arm and made me scream. And oh, I _screamed._ Screaming because I wouldn’t leave Garrett, screaming because I was scared, screaming because I wasn’t scared. The unholy, ear-piercing wail from Fear soon swallowed mine. Because my calculations had been right, and I speared the rift right into its midsection.

Standing a few feet away while being in a different dimension altogether was Garrett Hawke. Utter disbelief encompassed his face as he looked back at me.

_“You,”_ I said, voice laced with the power of the Anchor, _“Here. Now.”_

He rushed forward, through the waterfall of miasma pouring from the demon and through the rift. One of his sides was completely soaked in blood. Once he passed me, I began banishing the tear I had made. There were no screams left in me, and all I could do was grunt in exertion while feeling in my arm was lost. The pressure of closing it popped my eardrums.

The backlash of the closure was nearly as great as when I had sealed the Breach. I was thrown off my feet and landed painfully on my greatsword. Though I could feel myself breathing—breathing too quickly—the numbness had grown all the way to my shoulder.

Cullen and Cassandra tried helping me up, but I gave a tired shake of my head. “No,” I rasped, “just let me lay here for a moment.”

“That was incredibly stupid of you,” my commander said flatly.

“Incredibly,” Cassandra agreed with a definite scowl.

I gave them a blood-stained smile. “It was freaking awesome, that’s what.”

The Seeker rolled her eyes, but she was obviously relieved. After another minute or so of lying there, I was finally hauled to my feet to address the newest issue.

The fate of the Wardens.

“No demon army for Corypheus, it appears,” Alistair said as he limped forward. He was clutching his side. “The Divine—or her spirit—was right.” His tone lowered a notch. “You know that’s not how they see it, though. They just saw their Inquisitor work more miracles.”

“They came out of this alive,” I smirked. “As far as I’m concerned, they can tell whatever stories they like.”

“Yes, well, I suppose ‘The Inquisitor and her friends escaped by the skin of their teeth’ wouldn’t be as good for morale.”

“The Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared,” Cullen informed me. “And the Venatori magister is unconscious but alive. I thought you might wish to deal with him yourself.”

“Guys,” I breathed, “how many times have I told you: that’s _not an archdemon.”_

“Not according to the soldiers,” he said back.

“And we stand ready to help make up for Clarel’s…tragic mistake,” one of the Wardens piped up. He turned his head to the Fereldan man. “Alistair, you’re the senior surviving Grey Warden. We all think that you’d be the best in leading the reparations.”

All eyes cast themselves onto me. It dawned on my exhausted mind that not everybody wanted the Wardens back. They had become corrupted, and could possibly still become so. There was a chance that they would only be a liability to the Inquisition and create more problems than not.

Unwaveringly, I gave my verdict. “You stay and do whatever you can to help. Alistair believes that the Wardens are worth saving. And I trust his judgement.” A ripple of murmurs washed over the crowd, but I continued anyways. “You’re still vulnerable to Corypheus, and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

Solas was visibly shaking his head, and Cassandra outright questioned my authority. “After all that? You give them yet _another_ chance?”

She was silenced by a single look from me. “While they do that,” Alistair said, gratitude shining in his dark brown eyes, “I’ll report to the Wardens at Weisshaupt. Corypheus won’t catch us with our trousers down again.” That statement produced a few weary chuckles. I whispered to Cullen to start telling the soldiers to disperse before turning my attention back to Alistair.

Cradling my arm, I walked closer to him so I didn’t have to raise my voice. “No. You won’t go to Weisshaupt,” I ordered calmly. One of his brows raised.

“Inquisitor?”

“If you go to Weisshaupt, I have a feeling that you’ll never be seen from again,” I said quietly. “Stay here. Help the Wardens. Help the Inquisition. Weisshaupt has been silent, and will continue to be so for the time being. While they are, help us prepare for whatever comes next.”

Alistair weighed my words, the serious look on his face making me unable to read his decision. The longest six seconds of my life ticked by before he gave a single nod. “Varryn began to mistrust Weisshaupt. And he was never a man who believed things without good reason. Can’t say that I don’t have my suspicions, either. Very well. I’ll stay.”

Our arms clasped and we shared fatigued smiles. “Go get some rest, Inquisitor. You’ve earned it.”

“Do I look that bad?” I chuckled.

“Ah-ha, you see, _that_ is a trick question and I will not be made a fool of.”

We exchanged a few more friendly quips before parting ways. I didn’t make it five steps before I was swarmed by my friends, all of them fussing and chastising and congratulating me. I was collectively moved from the main hall and out of Adamant completely, until I found myself in a healer’s tent with solely one other occupant.

Hawke was shirtless and unconscious. His entire abdomen was wrapped with bandages. Dark, hollow circles formed under his closed eyes, and there was a sickly pallor about him. Too much blood loss, one of the healers said. He’d be fine, though, and just needed a while to recuperate.

I was stripped of my crusty and stained armor until I was in just my loose undershirt and trousers. My glasses had to be peeled off from my skin because the copious amounts of dried blood had glued it together. Feeling in my arm was slowly coming back, revealing the irritable amount of pain I was previously numb to. The Anchor itself was dormant, but an angry, inflamed color covered my entire hand and wrist.

When Varric quietly stepped in, I asked the surgeon if she would give us a few moments. After it was just the three of us, I smiled at him and gave a small wave. “Hey, there,” I simply said.

“Hey, Al.” I patted the empty spot on the cot beside me. Varric wearily sat down. We were both facing Garrett, so we regarded his state. His _living_ state.

“I can’t believe you did all that,” Varric finally muttered. “Just… _that.”_

“Me either,” I agreed.

“Did he punch you in the face?”

I breathed a laugh. “Yeah. _Really_ hard, too. He broke my glasses.”

“Ah, I’m sure they’ll be fixed in no time.” I put my head on the dwarf’s shoulder and let my eyes close, but I found no peace in doing so.

“I can see everything, Varric. Every time I blink I see it all.” Though I was non-specific, he understood what I was saying. One of his thick hands patted my cheek.

“It’ll pass, Al. It’ll pass.”

We would have sat there longer, but there was a rustle in the tent flap that made the both of us straighten. Solas cautiously entered, eyes flickering from me to Varric to Hawke in a second.

Before either of us could say anything, Varric audibly sighed and got to his feet. “Alright, alright, I’ll hit the road. Just try not to wake up Hawke. He’ll embarrass you to death if you do.”

“Varric—” I started, but he merely waved as he exited.

I didn’t get another word out before Solas was roughly hugging me, squeezing my body so tight it was hard to breathe. I returned the embrace as best I could with one hand out-of-order. As soon as he let go, that’s where his attention went to. “The feat such as the one you performed should not have been possible without magical assistance,” Solas said factually as he moved his thumb along the Mark.

“That’s what I’m good at. Defying odds and confusing everyone.” My eyes narrowed a bit when I saw the beginning stages of Snooty Solas. “You’re not happy,” I stated.

He exhaled and continued examining the Anchor, making it move with energy. After a few moments of tense silence, he replied, “No. I am not.”

“You wanted the Wardens to be exiled. Exterminated.”

“Not exterminated, no. But exiled, yes.”

Oh, I could read him like a fucking children’s book. “You see your own supposed failures in them, don’t you?” Solas looked sharply at me. “An order created from pure intentions, finally corrupted in a few centuries.”

When he didn’t deign to speak, I removed my hand from his grasp and placed it in my lap. “All things end, Solas. All things change. Accepting that will alleviate so much resentment and self-loathing you carry. But do you wish to know the real, unadulterated reason why I spared the Grey Wardens?” I leaned forward slightly and dropped my voice to just above a whisper. “Because I hope that when the world looks back on this event, they’ll remember what the Inquisition did for the Order. How we redeemed them even when so many others wanted to see their flame extinguished. And somebody, whoever they are, will have the courage and mercy try to save this organization when it, too, has fallen from grace.”

After a farewell that was less frosty than I had expected, I laid down on the cot and wished for Bubba to be here as sleep engulfed me.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes, I'm so sorry that this chapter was as long as fuuu. I just couldn't find any place to shorten it. And I'm, like, also sorry that the "suck deez nuts" was so random???? But I've literally been waiting to write that line for months now, so nobody was going to stop me (also, there will be a backstory to it). 
> 
> I just really enjoyed writing this chapter. 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying awesome and lovely.


	51. Shock Value

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets surprised more than once

For nearly two months I had been away from Skyhold. The sight of it even from a distance rekindled a type of happiness one gets whenever they see home. It was a struggle not to spur Hunter on and race to the gates just so I could be within the fortress’ walls. The rising temperature melted most of the snow, yet still maintained that crisp freshness few could find below the mountains. Anything was better than the Western Approach. Anything. Fortunately, though, I came back with something akin to a tan. I mean, I was no Cassandra Pentaghast, but after staring at the same pasty face for more than a decade here I think I’d know when there was a difference.

It wasn’t my idea to be at the head of the parade in celebration of the Inquisition army’s return. If I had it my way, I would have been stuck right in the middle and let Cullen be in the lead. The commander was, after all, the one who coordinated all the successful attacks. Or maybe Hawke and Alistair, whose combined efforts helped us figure out what was going on. Just…somebody else.

Yet as I saw the glowing, ecstatic, completely _joyful_ expressions on the faces of those who saw me come through the gates, I couldn’t help but puff my chest out a bit. And because one day I woke up with repaired glasses, I was able to see everyone and everything through clear lenses. The best thing, though, was that the cheering grew even louder for the soldiers. I would have beamed at the celebration, but just couldn’t bring myself to do so. Not when I knew that there were too many soldiers who’d never pass through the gates, who’d never see the faces of their family and friends again.

Josephine and Leliana were waiting for me as I ducked into the stables and dismounted from Hunter. I gave the two of them warm embraces, smelling the comforting scents of honeysuckle from the ambassador and chantry incense from the spymaster. “It’s good to see you two again,” I breathed.

“And you as well, Inquisitor,” Josephine smiled politely, but I could see the excitement in her beautiful eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“You have a guest,” Leliana said before I could answer. A sly smirk crawled up her flawless skin. “They arrived yesterday.”

“Who?” I questioned, raising a confused brow. “Any nobles or wealthy supporters aren’t technically _my_ guest. They’re a guest of the Inquisition.”

The two women exchanged knowing looks before Leliana responded. “It may be best if you see for yourself.”

I frowned, but followed them outside one of the side entrances of the stables that led to an area behind the crowd. “And where’s Bubs?” I followed up. “Is he that mad at me?”

Leliana simply pointed to a spot in my peripherals. I followed her finger, seeing a wiry figure sitting on the grass and picking small spring flowers from the undisturbed ground. They then wove the flowers around Bubba’s collar, who was sitting patiently in front of them with his tongue lolling out and eyes half-closed.

No. It couldn’t be.

She had been in…

But I had…

_Oh._

“Merrill!” I suddenly cried out, breaking into a run. The Dalish elf jerked her head to me and jumped to her feet.

“Alaran!” she exclaimed happily. Bubba had gotten to his feet as well, butt shaking as his tail nub wagged. As soon as I reached her I threw my arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. _Now_ I was laughing and squealing, all woes and remorsefulness forgotten. I buried my face in the crook of her shoulder as my feet spun us in twirls. When I lost my balance we both fell but continued to latch on to each other.

 _“Falon!”_ I finally managed to gasp, pushing Merrill away just enough so I could get a look at her. “What are you…what are you _doing here?”_

Her laugh was the same it had always been. We both sat up, and I reached over to drag Bubs over to me. He wasn’t happy, unsurprisingly, and grumbled when I pulled him into my lap. Still, he didn’t move when I began scratching behind his ears and under his chin. “I got your letter telling me that Hawke was here at Skyhold. Alive! And, well, I just couldn’t stay away. Aveline would have come, but Kirkwall is, well, you know…”

“Yeah, I know,” I seconded, but I still couldn’t stop grinning. “Merrill,” I breathed happily, “wow. Just…wow.”

She giggled before inhaling sharply. “Creators! I’m sitting here with the Inquisitor! That’s what you are now!” In just above a whisper she asked, “is this even allowed?”

I cocked my head and pretended to think deeply. “Because I am indeed the _Inquisitor,_ I believe it is.”

We both shared more laughs. Merrill looked older, of course, but she aged with the kind of grace only achieved by elves. Her hair was long, now, and put into a coil at the nape of her neck. A gray feather hung from one ear, and there was a small scar just above her right brow. The clothes she wore were similar to the type worn in alienage—neutral-toned and plain. But because Merrill was Merrill, she added her own uniqueness to it by wrapping a dark green, embroidered sash around her waist. Beneath it was simple leather armor. Her nails were still stained a dark red from years of performing blood magic. “I missed you,” I confessed, smile slipping into something sadder. “I missed all of you a lot.”

“And I’ve missed you,” Merrill said back, green eyes shining. One of her fingers trailed up to touch the scar on my cheek from the Red Templar blade. “So much time has passed, hasn’t it? So much has changed. I never…we never got to say goodbye to you. Everything happened so fast. One moment we thought you were dead, the next you weren’t, and then all of us were running.”

“I understand,” I said kindly. “Things were really bad. Have you…have you heard…?” Even though I didn’t say his name, Merrill knew who I was speaking about.

She gave her head a somber shake. “No. I hear things from Varric’s people and the like, but they’re just…whispers on the wind. Are you looking for him?”

“All of us have always been looking for him. I just fear for his safety. Starkhaven is growing restless, and Kirkwall is so vulnerable right now. If he’s found, bad things may happen.”

Merrill pushed her lips to the side. “Alaran, I…there is another reason why I’ve come. You see, I—”

“MERRILL!” a voice boomed. The three of us turned to the side entrance of the stables, watching Garrett Hawke run over. Behind him, Varric laughed and followed at a walk.

It turned into a mini reunion. Beefcakes, who had been left at Skyhold as well, found us and joined in on everything. After talking all at once for an upwards of ten minutes, we wound up back on the green grass, basking in the warm sun. There were a million things that needed my attention, but I damn well deserved this.

It was a little strange, though, looking at all the shifts in the dynamic. I used to be the youngest, most child-like one in the entire group. I had nothing but a smart-ass mouth and a lot of problems. I mean, I still had _those_ things, but now I was also the one with the most responsibilities and a glowing vagina-mark on my hand. Then I got nostalgic for a few moments, up until I found myself sitting cross-legged with my back to Merrill so she could braid more spring flowers in my hair. “So, Daisy,” Varric said as he leaned back on both elbows, “How’s our favorite flower?”

Merrill’s brief silence made my brows scrunch up a bit. “Tell me what’s up, girly,” I said. Hawke had sat up from his spot on the ground, ready to listen.

“Well,” she started out reluctantly, “it’s bad in Kirkwall, as all of you well know.” The three of us nodded in agreement. “But the alienage is taking the worst of the hit. I don’t mean to say that nobody else is suffering, because they are, but many…many of the nobles are turning the city against the elves there. They believe that if the elves are eradicated then many of the problems will be gone. Aveline and I have done all that we’ve could to stop it, but the City Guard can only do so much. So when I got your letter, Alaran, I thought that it’d be a good time to come here and…and ask for the Inquisition’s help.”

Less than a second ticked by before she got a reply. “Of course, Merrill. I’ll get right on it.” She finished the hair-garden on my head, so I turned to her and saw the gratitude on her face. “But I’m glad that you didn’t just write a letter back to me about it. Skyhold is lucky to have you here. And this way, we can have your advice on our approaches and methods. I’ll have an appointment set up for us with Ambassador Montilyet to begin going over the needs of the alienage and how we can distribute resources. Have you met her, yet?”

“Oh! Yes, I have. She’s very sweet. Thank you so much, Alaran. I knew I could count on you. There’s nobody else that could be better at being Inquisitor than you.”

I smiled at Merrill’s sentiment and stood. “Thanks, Merrill. Now, if you excuse me, I have those _Inquisitor_ duties to attend to. But hopefully I’ll find you guys again tonight at the Rest, after the vigil. Varric, Hawke, Beefs, get her introduced to everybody, show her around.” I looked down at Bubberston. “And you, mister, are coming with me. I need my right-hand man.”

Though he gave an equivalent of a dog eye-roll, Bubs got to his feet. I waved goodbye to everyone and walked confidently back into the fold.

-

I spent the rest of the day in meetings with Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Alistair. Some of them were individual, and some of them were in an ensemble. I worried about how hard the commander had been pushing himself, but knew that he’d only get annoyed with me if I prodded. Perhaps I’d give him a few days before checking in; that way the both of us will have had some time to settle back into routine and calm down from the siege and hard travel.

We had received word that peace talks between Celene and Gaspard would be in four months’ time at the Winter Palace. Until then, I’d stay a month in Skyhold, go another month and a half campaigning in the Emerald Graves and the Exalted Plains, then return to spend the rest of the time preparing for Halamshiral. I grimaced when Josephine said that she’d begin giving me dance lessons within the week. But in the back of my mind, I was eager to return to the city and meet the people who stomped “rabbits” into the ground and purged their alienages.

When evening came, the whole of the Inquisition rejoined in the courtyard. I stood with Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, Josephine, Hawke, and Alistair on the landing, candles in our hands. Bubba sat on his haunches beside me. When it all quieted and the sun began pulling a blanket of stars over the sky, I readied myself to start speaking to the people. My eyes scanned over the crowd below me, and I spotted the Inner Circle, the Bull’s Chargers, Merrill, Finn and Ariane, the Valo-Kas, Fiona, Ivena, and countless of other familiar faces. And, in the very back, was Hallah Lynne, towering over everybody and watching me with her emerald eyes. She put one of her thumbs up and crookedly smiled.

I glanced down at the candle in my grasp, then back up at everyone. Then, after taking a breath that calmed my nerves, I started to speak.

“Inquisition, tonight we mourn those who gave their lives in the name of the cause we were founded upon. There is no such thing as a painless victory; the greatest kinds are only ever achieved through sacrifice. And yet, the ache of their absence is not healed simply by saying such things. Our friends, our family, our mentors and apprentices…they are gone. So, we do the only thing that we have known since the beginning of our existence:

“We remember, and we press forward. Death is one of the most difficult trials we face in our lifetime; trying to ignore its power will only send us on a lonelier, more desolate path. I urge you to grieve, Inquisition. Though it is astoundingly painful, do not ignore it. Grief can be what helps us heal when it is allowed to do its work properly. Pain must be acknowledged, not avoided. Grieving is not a brief process. Be patient and give it time. Such as physical wounds are, the pain of losing loved ones requires time to heal. That agony is the price we pay for loving someone—and a price I feel is worth it. They will continue to be just as important to us as when they were here in the Waking World. Because we have loved and respected them, we have the opportunity—the duty—to carry the priceless memory of them with us. There will be days when the universe itself seems shattered, and the remains of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We will all experience those broken times when it seems we can never be whole again. But the dawn will always come, and give light to the beauty of this world once more. Let us support one another, grieve together, and heal together. For as we commend the dead to the Maker, the Creators, the Ancestors, the stars, commend our own lives to the purpose of the Inquisition: make the world a better place. Do it by showing love, compassion, empathy, and understanding to those around us. Our journey is long, and death will accompany us at every step. But if we are reminded that we do not walk and fight alone, we will not be forgotten.”

I lifted my candle above my head, swallowed, and opened my mouth to sing.

_“Shadows fall,_   
_And hope has fled._   
_Steel your heart_   
_The dawn will come.”_

Others lifted their candles, and by the next verse I was singing with the entirety of the Inquisition.

_“The night is long,_   
_And the path is dark_   
_Look to the sky_   
_For one day soon_   
_The dawn will come._

_The shepard’s lost_   
_And his home is far_   
_Keep to the stars_   
_The dawn will come._

_The night is long_   
_And the path is dark_   
_Look to the sky_   
_For one day soon_   
_The dawn will come._

_Bare your blade_   
_And raise it high_   
_Stand your ground_   
_The dawn will come._

_The night is long_   
_And the path is dark_   
_Look to the sky_   
_For one day soon._   
_The dawn will come.”_

The flame was brought down to my lips and blown out.

-

Four days after the vigil, something caught my eye.

There was a dwarf talking to Varric. A female dwarf.

 _Hoo hoo, what is this?_ I thought to myself. As conspicuously as I could, I began to meander over to see if I could eavesdrop.

“…I appreciate the warning, but you shouldn’t have come yourself. What if the guild found out? Or Whatshisname?”

“Are you worrying for me or for yourself?” the woman asked back.

“A little of column A, a little of column B. I am the expendable one, after all.”

“Awww,” she said in a teasing sort of way that rubbed me wrong. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. We’ll just have to—”

Varric saw that I was within earshot and loudly cleared his throat. “Al,” he said with a nod. Were those beads of sweat on his forehead? “I was just going to start looking for you.”

The hooded woman turned to face me. “Well. This is a surprise. You’re the Inquisitor, right? Bianca Davri, at your service.”

Other than my eyebrow sharply raising, I didn’t give anything away as I watched the dwarf slightly bow. “The pleasure is mine,” I said neutrally. “I’ve actually done some research into one of your most recent and noted inventions. The steam-powered mechanical thresher and seeder is something of the future.”

Bianca’s smile broke through some of the arrogant demeanor. She pulled back her hood, revealing dark brown hair that matched her eyes. “Thank you, Inquisitor. I’d be honored to talk with you about it.”

My own smile barely flicked across my lips. “So, Bianca Davri, what brings you here to Skyhold? And why do both of you look inherently guilty?” On the word _Skyhold,_ my eyes moved over to Varric to make my insinuation clear.

“She’s taken a huge risk coming here herself,” Varric explained before Bianca could. “Maybe for the both of us.” He was missing his nonchalant demeanor and the mischievous expressions.

“You’re such a worrier!” Bianca chastised. “There’s a giant hole in the sky. I think the Merchants Guild has bigger things to think about.”

“Bianca’s got a lead on where Corypheus got his red lyrium,” he went on seriously.

“The site of Bartrand’s Folly, the thaig Varric found, has been leaked,” Bianca said. “There’s a Deep Roads entrance crawling with strange humans carting out red lyrium by the handful.”

“And where’s this entrance?” I inquired.

“Just south of Lake Luthias, in the Hinterlands.”

I frowned and scratched my jaw. “Damn. I know where you’re talking about. That was one of the first places we cleared out while we were there. They must have reconvened efforts. But we need to deal with this. As long as he has this source, Corypheus is that much more powerful.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Varric murmured. There was something in his sienna eyes that I couldn’t decipher.

“I’ll keep an eye on their operation,” said Bianca. “If you’re interested in shutting it down, you’ve got my help.” Her mocking tone returned, bringing back my inexplicable irritation. “Try not to leave me waiting too long, Varric. I’ve got my own work to do, you know.”

Varric and I watched as Bianca Davri strolled away, putting her hood back up and disappearing seamlessly into the crowd. Then, when I met eyes with him again, I splayed both hands and basically said, _What in the Entire Fuck?_ in my body language alone.

He sighed and sunk into the chair he frequently took up residency at. “I know, I know.”

I sat in the chair across from him. “She’s…a lot _plainer_ than I imagined,” I breathed as I vacantly stared at the tips of my shoes. “But still capturing. I think I understand, now.” A moment of silence. “Holy _shit,_ Varric.”

“Holy shit indeed, Al.”

“She was _here.”_

“Yeah.”

“And we’re going to the Hinterlands to meet up with her again.”

“Yeah.”

“In the Deep Roads. We both hate the Deep Roads.”

“Yeah.”

“Josie is not going to be happy.”

“Yeah.”

Then I bolted upright, making Varric jump. “I have to tell Hawke and Merrill,” I spoke robotically.

“Al, no—”

But I had already stiffly, and quickly, walked away, down to the Rest where I knew the two would be. Because Varric Tethras’ one story that he’d never tell just up and walked into Skyhold. _Somebody_ had to appreciate it.

Much to Josephine’s disapproval, Varric and I left with Solas, Dorian, and Vivienne two days since the given mission. Don’t ask me _how_ we were unfortunate enough to have the most finicky—and argumentative—people join us, but Cassandra still wouldn’t look at Varric, Bull was too big to fit into some of the caverns, Sera was on a Red Jenny mission, Blackwall was doing a training camp for the soldiers, and I didn’t want Cole near any of the red lyrium. It should have just been Varric, Bubs, and me going…until I saw the three of them waiting for us at the stables, saddled and ready to go. I figured it was Josephine getting back at me for leaving so abruptly. _She’s the nicest lady ever!_ my ass.

Still, though, I was happy to have Solas along. I hadn’t had much time to visit with him since Adamant, just because I was so busy. Varric already knew of our…affection…towards each other, which meant the others already saw it as well or would see it soon. I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned about the results of that.

By the time we made it to the Deep Roads entrance, I wanted to stuff my ears with cotton. There hadn’t even been any bears or bandits to make the mages shut up long enough to fight. And the sight of Bianca waiting for just on the inside of the tunnel didn’t lift my spirits any.

Oh, and let’s not forget that I was in the _Deep Roads._

“Finally,” Bianca breathed as soon as she saw us. “I started to think you weren’t coming.”

“Nobody said you had to hang out in the creepy cave while you waited,” Varric said exasperatedly.

“Well, I did wait, so let’s make this quick. These idiots are carrying the red lyrium out in unprotected containers. And we don’t want to stick around long enough for it to start “talking” to us.”

“How did you find this operation in the first place?” I questioned as we walked. There was something nagging in the back of my mind, telling me that things weren’t as simple as they were made out to be. “There are hundreds of Deep Roads entrances just in Ferelden alone.”

“I’ve used this entrance in the past. Varric isn’t the only surface dwarf to explore the Deep Roads. Though I’ve got to admit, I was pretty surprised when I came here and found it full of humans.”

Sure enough, we saw dwarves and humans loading crates onto carts in the distance. “We’d better get to work,” I said to them, trying to work through the lock-jaw I was experiencing from fear.

“Sounds good to me,” Bianca replied, arming herself with the bow she had on her back. “Though you will have to make those three quiet if we don’t want to be heard for everyone to hear.” She nodded to the grumbling mages.

I shot daggers at Solas, Dorian, and Vivienne. “Enough,” I snapped, irritability apparent in my voice. Me getting fed up this fast wasn’t a good sign. “Knock it off, or I’ll knock all of you over the head.”

Unfortunately, my order was loud enough that it did, in fact, alert the nearest post of guards. The fighting with that post brought the attention of the other posts, and so on and so forth until _finally_ we were set upon by a small flock of darkspawn who were attracted to all the noise.

Darkspawn were terrifying. I had only come upon them a couple of times on my own travels, and both encounters were harrowing. Even though I was pretty sure I couldn’t be infected by the Blight, everybody else was at risk. That’s what always made it so scary. One nick, one bite, and it’d all be over. But, after seeing some small tunnels that the darkspawn had carved out in this area, I knew what I would have the Grey Wardens under the Inquisition banner tend to.

My suspicion of Bianca enhanced when I watched her fiddle with one of the doors in the Deep Roads and effortlessly open it. She briefly talked about the Merchants Guild and all she had set up in case she needed to avoid them, but I was too focused on mentally keeping the internal structure of the cavern stable to pay attention. Did I mention that I hated the Deep Roads? Like, _a lot?_

“A-ha!” Bianca suddenly exclaimed, drawing my focus away from the shipment documents Vivienne had uncovered to her. She was triumphantly holding a large key in her hand. Bianca went to the door closest to her and used the key to lock it with a few definite _clicks._ When she stood back, she exhaled and said, “They won’t be able to use this entrance again.”

And as that stupid key _clicked,_ so did the gears in my brain. Everything came together at once. The information, the location, the lyrium…it all pointed to a single person standing in front of us.

“Bianca…” Varric said lowly, a touch of anger in his voice.

There was more than just a _touch_ of anger in mine. “You were the one who leaked the thaig’s location,” I growled, taking a few steps forward.

“It’s not like that!” Bianca tried to hurriedly explain. She still had her back to us. “Not…entirely. _Shit.”_ When the dwarf turned around, there wasn’t even guilt. Just a cold, scientific resolve. “When I got the location, I went and had a look for myself. And I found the red lyrium, and I…studied it.”

“You know what it does to people!” Varric burst.

“I was doing you a favor!” Bianca shot back, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You want to know how this stuff works just as much as I do!” She cast her eyes away for a few moments, something flickering on her visage that I couldn’t quite ascertain. “I just…wanted to figure it out.”

“And how did you go from studying red lyrium to giving the location to Corypheus?” I asked bitingly. All this time, Varric had been blaming himself for every bad thing that happened. But it had been _her_ all along.

“I found out that red lyrium…it’s Blighted, Varric! Do you know what that means?”

“What? That two deadly things combine to form something super-awful?” Varric said exasperatedly.

“Lyrium is alive! Or…something like it. Blight doesn’t infect minerals. Only animals.” Bianca looked between Varric and me, unable to decide which gaze she’d take on. Eventually she settled back on Varric’s, which didn’t have as much _icy fury_ as mine. “I couldn’t get any further on my own, so I looked for a Grey Warden mage. Blight and magical expertise in one, right? And I found this guy, Larius. He seemed really interested in helping my research. So I gave him a key.”

My heart plummeted to the floor.

“Larius?” Varric repeated. “He was the Grey Warden we met in Corypheus’...” His eyes went to me and saw that my former expression had fallen into crushing realization. Varric hung his head and muttered brokenly, “Oh, shit.” When he lifted his gaze again, his sienna eyes were burning with…with disappointment, with betrayal. “I knew something was off!” he tried snapping at Bianca, but there just wasn’t enough fire to it that could mask his true feelings.

“I didn’t realize until you said you found red lyrium at Haven,” Bianca recounted. “I came here and…well…then I went to you.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I asked, “You had to know we’d figure out what happened, Bianca. Why did you insist on coming with us?”

“Varric told me what people were doing with the red lyrium. I…had to help make this right.”

I dropped my hand and scowled. “You _told_ Varric you had a “lead” so we’d straighten out your mistake. You used us. Or have you used so many people in the past that it no longer seems to be a moral dilemma for you?”

“I know I screwed up, but we did fix it! It’s as right as I can make it!”

Varric threw his hands in the air. “This isn’t one of your machines! You can’t just replace a part and make everything right!”

“No, but I can try, can’t I?” Bianca snapped. Her expression had now filled with contempt. “Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?”

Solas put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from kicking this bitch’s ass.

A humorless bark of a laugh came from Varric. “As if I would tell stories about my own mistakes!”

“The red lyrium is out,” I growled. “Closing this entrance won’t undo that.”

Varric sighed. I knew that sound well enough from my own past with hearing it. It was his sigh to let out the negativity, the blame, the discontent. He was too forgiving and loyal to hold vitriol against somebody he loved. How…how _dare_ this woman string along, abuse, and disregard his emotions? And then _use_ him for her own gain?

“We’ve done all we can here. Bianca, you’d better get home before someone misses you.” Hearing that ache in Varric’s voice made every fiber of my being _hate_ Bianca Davri.

“Varric…”

He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his eyes to the ground. “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, unable to hide the pain he had covered so well before all this.

Then Bianca and I locked onto each other. The feelings she conveyed toward Varric were unsurprisingly absent as she said to me, “Get him killed, and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs, _Al.”_

Dorian, Vivienne, and Solas latched onto me as I lunged for her throat. Bianca had the decency to jump back fearfully, but not before I got in a few pounds. Neither of the throws were as forceful as I wanted them to be, no thanks to the mages struggling to keep me back, but I hit hard enough that it’d leave gnarly bruises. “If you _ever_ show your face around here or Skyhold or anywhere there’s an Inquisition banner, I’ll have you executed for committing crimes against Thedas,” I seethed. “And I _hope_ you think that hiding from us will be as easy as hiding from the Merchants Guild. Because that way we’ll find you. We will find you. _I_ will find you.”

Bubba snapped his jaws in a vicious, fearsome snarl. He was nearly eye-level with Bianca. I trusted he wouldn’t actually attack her; Bubs only attacked when he aimed to kill. But still, it was gratifying to see her pale and reel back from the Mabari.

“Maker’s ass, how much do you _weigh?”_ Dorian grunted as I was half-drug out of the stone room. “Stop wriggling!”

“That’s quite enough, Alaran, you’re not going to assault the dwarf,” Vivienne said.

“No, I’m not,” I growled, shrugging the three of them off in one abrupt motion. “But I _really_ want to.”

Varric was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, trying to hide his distress but failing miserably. I simply put my arm over his shoulders and planted a kiss atop his strawberry blonde head. “Let’s go home,” I said.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

-

It was never a nice thing, waking up with Leliana towering over me in a dark room. _“Gah!”_ I wheezed, instinctively grabbing for the small dagger under my bed. _“What are you doing in my room?”_

I swear, Leliana literally sucked in the darkness. “Forgive me for intruding,” she said softly, stepping back as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. One of my hands tiredly waved her off while the other groped for the glasses on my nightstand.

“It’s okay. I only get…a couple hours of sleep, anyways,” I muttered. “What did you need me for?”

“Your return from the Hinterlands was not unfollowed,” the spymaster explained. “Our scouts have reported that Bianca Davri was trying to find an entrance into the fortress earlier tonight, and is now camped out near the base of the mountain. Your attention is needed on the matter.”

“Oh, well, that’s great,” I sighed annoyedly as I swept my feet off the side of the bed and stood. My back popped as I laced my fingers and stretched them upwards. “And why couldn’t this wait until morning?”

“Because.”

I gave Leliana a sidelong look as I pulled on trousers and threw on a scarf. “Because?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

The spymaster tucked a strand of red hair behind an ear. “Alaran,” she spoke, causing me to pause. Leliana hardly ever used my first name, and never with that tone. “Trust me. Just go to her.”

There was a drawn-out silence as I stared Leliana down. She didn’t break under my gaze, but had a slight pleading look about her. After a long sigh, I shrugged on Varric’s duster and pulled my hair back in a messy, lopsided bun. “Alright, alright, fine. But I am _not_ getting dressed up.”

“That much is obvious.”

I stuck my tongue out at Leliana and grabbed my greatsword. “And I’m guessing that I’m going to have to go to her, won’t I?”

“You are correct. There is already a horse waiting for you.”

We exited through the door. Bubba had awoken by now and sleepily trudged behind. “And I’m assuming that there’ll be scouts following me?”

“Yes. They will not interfere unless something goes awry.”

“Maybe we should wake up Cassandra or Solas or Varric,” I said as we descended the darkly lit stairs. “It’d be nice not having to go into this alone.” My brow raised when Leliana didn’t answer. “No? Not even them? What’s so important about Bianca Davri that not even they should be present?”

“It is not that I don’t trust them. But what she has…well, once you see, you’ll understand why I want you to go alone.”

I stifled a yawn. “Okay.”

“You won’t try to harm her, will you?”

“No…no, I won’t. My, ah, _rage_ towards her has since calmed, though don’t expect me to be Miss Nice Nice or anything.”

“And why would I ever think that?” Leliana wryly asked. I scoffed and fell into silence, too tired to really engage in more conversation. She walked beside the horse I swung myself onto until we reached the gates. Two quiet soldiers opened it wide enough for Bubba and me to exit. There was always a definite shift in the air outside of Skyhold. It was less…full. The air was colder and thinner, and stung my throat as I breathed in. The moon was hidden behind a veil of black, unilluminated clouds. It was a shame, too. The Eluvia constellation was always bright this time of the year.

Bubs and I crossed the bridge that connected Skyhold to the mountainside. “What do you think this is all about, mister?” I asked my hound. “Leliana was acting very oddly.”

He huffed. “You’re right. _All_ of this is odd. Like, what the fack, Bianca Davri? What does that woman have that’s so important that I need to go _to her?_ By myself, in the middle of the night, and outside of Skyhold?” I _tsked_ and slumped my body so I was like a potato sack on the horse. “I don’t like this.”

Soon enough we spotted a small campfire off the path a ways, flickering behind the coverage of trees. I steered my horse through the brush, face hardening when I saw a small pitched tent and an even smaller woman sitting next to the flames. Bianca looked up at me past the hood she wore, looking grim and gray despite the warmth of the fire. Without so much as a nod, I dismounted and tied he reins of my horse to the nearest tree. Bubs prowled around me, nose low to the ground as he sniffed out the area.

Bianca stood. “Inquisitor.”

“I told you not to come back here,” I said lowly.

“Yes. I remember.” She got to her feet. “Look, you can hate me all you want. I’ll just add you to the long, long list. But there’s a reason why I needed to see you.”

“And that is?” I inquired with a doubtfully raised eyebrow. Bianca gave me a silent look before turning and retreating to her tent. There was a slight rustle from within, as well as a bit of motherly cooing.

Bubba snapped his head straight and positioned his ears forward. I frowned as confusion crept into my mind. What the hell was going on?

Bianca came back out with a wrapped bundle in her arms. My lips parted and I involuntarily took a step back. “This…is going to be difficult to explain, but I hope that you keep an open mind and hear me out.” She glanced down. “Three and a half years ago, Varric and I managed to…meet. When I found out that I was carrying, my husband allowed me to continue the pregnancy until I gave birth. During those months, I wasn’t allowed to leave our house or see anyone outside of our family. I didn’t even get to hold her for more than an hour before she was taken from my arms. If everyone found out that I had a child with somebody other than my husband, the notoriety we had would vanish. Most dwarves are very judgmental, if you didn’t already know.

“Bogdan stowed her away with the Cadash family. I managed to...get her just before coming here. She wasn’t going to have a happy life with them. They’re some of the worst of the Carta, and they’d…they’d abuse her. They already had, when I took her. But I have to go back to Bogdan, and I can’t bring her with me.” Bianca looked back to me. “This is the safest place she could be. With you. With Varric.”

I was not somebody who was at a loss for words. But as I stared at Bianca, at the sleeping toddler in her arms, none would come to mind. She was patient, though, and waited for me to gather myself. When I finally did, I scratchily asked, “Does…does Varric know?”

“No. I just…couldn’t find the right time to tell him.”

“And you still can’t bear to face him?”

“After what we just went through?” Bianca asked, bitter laughter to her voice. “Tell me, Inquisitor, would you do that?”

I didn’t answer her question. “Then why did you ask for me? Because I’m the Inquisitor, and that means that he’d have no choice but to take this…this _child_ on my order?”

“It’s because you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a daughter. That’s not a difficult thing to see. Ancestors, you’re even wearing his coat. If anyone can break this to him, it’d be you.”

Hesitantly, I took a few steps forward until I was staring down at the child of Bianca Davri and Varric Tethras. “What is her name?” I whispered.

“Kasi.” Bianca stared up at me, desperation bleeding into her voice. “Please, Inquisitor. I can’t take care of her. But here, she can have a life. She can be loved. I know you think I’m a heartless bitch, but I’m also a mother. And I’d do anything for my child. Including giving her up forever.”

I tentatively raised a finger to stroke the toddler’s chubby cheek. She had her mother’s dark hair and her father’s golden skin. The touch made her sleepily open her eyes, and I took in a small breath.

They were Varric’s eyes.

“I’ll give you five minutes with her,” I slowly said, retracting my hand and placing it back down at my side.

“Thank you, Inquisitor.”

Bubs and I retreated from the campfire and waited. The Mabari and I exchanged several loaded glances. This whole thing was…everything from what I could have imagined.

Crap.

How was I going to explain this to Varric?

Five minutes came and went, and I came back to retrieve Kasi. Bianca had wiped away her tears and courageously gave me her daughter, who was still fast asleep. I was also handed a small knapsack filled with her clothes, a few spare blankets, and her favorite toys. When I asked if Bianca wanted to keep something of Kasi’s, she accepted and fished out a small, stuffed Mabari. We parted without so much as a farewell.

Then I was back on my horse, returning to Skyhold with another human being in my arms. I couldn’t stop looking at her. She was so…so _real._ Kasi. Her name was Kasi. Kasi. She was Varric’s daughter. With her sienna eyes and golden skin and soft breaths.

The gates opened again and I made my way back to the stables. Leliana waited for me there. She looked how I felt. “Oh, Maker,” she murmured as I slipped off and walked up to her.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I said, too shell-shocked to be mad.

“Bianca told me her plans, but asked for you to take her daughter specifically. I couldn’t disagree with her reasoning. You and Varric are extremely close. It will...be better if you bring him the news.”

“Have you awoken him?”

“Yes. He should—”

“There had better be a damn good reason why I was ordered to come down here to these stables,” Varric interrupted as he came through the entrance. I looked over my shoulder so I could see him, but didn’t fully turn around. He had his hair undone and wore a wrinkled nightshirt he probably got off the ground. “Al?” he squinted. “What’re you...?”

“Take a breath, Master Tethras,” Leliana said in her honey-sweet tone that every Chantry sister tries to have.

“What’re you talking about?”

I faced Varric. His eyes went to the toddler in my arms and he paled. “Uh, hey, so, there’s something that I need to tell you.”

-

“Al…what am I going to do?”

Varric and I sat at the table in his quarters, the both of us staring at the sleeping little girl in his bed. He appeared as if he had aged fifty years, and I imagined that I didn’t look much better.

“You’re going to be a father.”

“But I’m not…I’m not a _father._ I don’t even know what it means to be one,” he choked out. “I’m a lot of things, Al, but a parent? I always thought that it’d be the one area where I’d fuck everything up.”

A finger contemplatively twirled a strand of white hair that hung loose by my ear. After a short silence, I said, “I think you’ll do just fine. More than fine, really.”

“Oh?” he said back mirthlessly. “And what makes you so certain?”

“Because,” I answered, looking to Varric with a loving expression, “I turned out alright. And you didn’t even raise me my whole life. Just imagine how she’s going to turn out with such an amazing father being there for her every step of the way.”

That sent him over the edge. His lip began to quiver and he hid his eyes behind a hand. I stood behind Varric, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and placing my cheek next to his stubbly one. “This girl is going to have a great family that loves and cares for her,” I promised. “She’s probably going to know how to swear in five different languages by the age of six, but I foresee an overall good childhood.

“It’s going to be okay, Varric. It’s going to be okay.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrugs shoulders up and down at a furious rate*


	52. Talking and Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets a bit of help from Hallah

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. I rubbed my eyes and turned my head to look at the person who was sharing a bed with. One of my legs were splayed over their waist while an elbow jammed into the crook of their neck. Despite that, Solas continued to soundly sleep.

I smiled and removed my limbs from their intrusive places. He had been kind enough to wake up when I knocked on his door just a few hours prior, after I had left Varric’s—and now his daughter’s—room. Bubba stayed with them, unable to tear his eyes away from Kasi. I had a feeling that he decided he would be her new protector. And because he wasn’t with me, I found myself wandering the empty halls of Skyhold until I ended up standing in front of Solas’ single wooden door. After I had knocked I was afraid that either he was too deep in the Fade to hear or didn’t care enough to answer. But he did, looking half-asleep and incredibly attractive. He saw how bedraggled and drained I was and invited me in. The second the door closed again I told him everything, starting from when Leliana woke me up to asking if I could be let into Solas’ room. Then at some point one of us fell asleep, and here we were.

My lips planted themselves on Solas’ forehead, cheek, and lips. He made a sleepy noise and moved his hand to the nape of my neck. “Are you leaving?” he muttered, voice low from the early hour. The sound of it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah. I have to get ready for the day,” I whispered. Solas made another noise and tugged me down on top of him.

“And if I disagree with your plans?”

I smirked and gave Solas another kiss, pressing my body against his while I did so. A hardness right below my navel began to form. My kisses deepened as Solas tightened his grip on me, warm hands roaming under my nightshirt.

It really sucked, ya know? A part of me wanted to sit on Solas’ dick and get it on. Simple as that. But the other part, the _sucky_ part, kept me from doing just that. Because as much as I fantasized and planned about having sex, everything turned sour when the pain of being raped resurfaced. I could still _feel_ the invasion, after all these years, which ruined just about everything. I had no idea if that was normal or not. It was a barrier between me and the sex life that I desired to have, and now that there was a definite person that I wanted to be intimate with…

I needed help.

Hallah would come talk to me soon, I knew.

After a reluctant departure, I returned to my room found that a hot bath was already waiting for me to soak in. Lavender petals floated on the surface, and when I stripped and dipped I let out a soft, pleased sigh as the cold was chased from my bones.

Fingers that weren’t mine began to untangle my horrible bedhead. “You need your undercut to be shaved again,” Hallah Lynne muttered. My eyes remained closed.

“I know.”

“Do you want me to take care of it?”

“Sure.”

There was a brief silence, then Hallah said, “There. All done.”

I lifted my hand to feel the back of my scalp. The undercut was back down to a stubble. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome. Now tilt your head back.” I did so, letting my hair be washed. Hallah’s long fingers gently massaged my head, sending me into a relaxed state. She began to hum a tune that was neither from Earth or Thedas. It was old and melodious and resonating. The scent of lemons that always carried with her intermixed with the lavender.

Without warning, tears came to my eyes. I kept them closed and continued to listen to Hallah hum, but the tremble to my bottom lip only grew stronger. “It’s okay, Little Lamb,” Hallah spoke to me, gentle and soothing. “It’s okay to cry. I’m here. We’re going to work through this, yeah?”

“I need to be stronger,” I whispered hoarsely, for my throat had begun to burn.

“You _are_ strong. But too often you think ‘strong’ and ‘unfeeling’ are the same word. They’re not.” Hallah poured more water over my head. Small streams ran forward and trailed down my face. “Being vulnerable about your problems and trauma is not being weak.” She placed a kiss atop my wet hair. It sent every primal instinct I had into such a confused tizzy that all I could do was sit there. “Let’s get you out of this bath. The advisers can wait. Skyhold can wait. Because you’ve been waiting long enough to get quite a few things off your chest.”

Hallah stood and went to the side of the tub, holding a towel for me. I splashed water on my face before stepping out and being wrapped up. She wore something less offensive on the eyes, today. Her clothing consisted of a t-shirt that had Deadpool on it, black leggings, and worn black Converse for shoes. “Your Mohawk is extra voluminous today,” I commented as I let her guide me like a child back to my main chambers.

“Why thank you. It’s taken thousands and thousands of years to perfect this style,” Hallah replied. I weakly chuckled. “I think you’d look pretty good in a Mohawk too.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve actually been thinking about cutting it pretty short. Like when I had it back in Kirkwall.”

“You should do it.”

“Will I actually, though?”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah.”

That, for some reason, made me smirk. “Cool.”

The two of us made light conversation as I got dressed. When I was ready, Hallah and I both sat down on my bed and started to talk.

If anybody could help me with my issues, it was an immortal woman who had seen the rise and fall of the Universe time and time again. The amazing thing, though, was that she _had_ witnessed all of that and still made me feel like my problems were valid. She let me talk things out, let me say things I had never said aloud, and guided the topic to appropriate places without being overbearing. And when it was time to stop for the day, I was given a long, warm hug that I desperately needed.

We’d continue our “talk” in two days.

I felt better than I had in a long time.

-

“Varric, she’s just…she’s just _so adorable,”_ Merrill gushed as she, Hawke, Bubs, and I sat with Varric and his daughter in a gazebo amidst Skyhold’s garden. Kasi was currently sitting on her lap, playing with a toy and saying indecipherable words. “I can’t get enough of her!”

“She is, isn’t she?” Varric chuckled as he looked lovingly at his little girl.

“Is it just me, or does she have your smile too?” Hawke prompted, leaning over to lightly pinch Kasi’s cheek.

I rubbed my jawline. “Has she spoken much?” I asked Varric. “I know it must have been jarring for her to wake up in an entirely different place, but most children usually become comfortable within a few hours. And it’s been, what, four days since she arrived?”

“Kasi says a few words here and there,” Varric replied. “Why? What’re you thinking, Al?”

“Most children by three years are able to construct simple sentences. I’m just…worried that she’s fallen behind because of her prior circumstances.” I leaned forward and waved at Kasi. “Hi, baby girl,” I grinned. “Can you say hi to me?”

She waved and grinned adorably but said nothing. “Maybe she’s just quiet,” Garrett mused as he reached out for Kasi. Merrill reluctantly gave her to him. “That’s how Bethany was. She didn’t talk much until she was five. _But_ she had Carver. And you know how weird twins are.”

I continued to wave at Kasi, mouthing _hi_ to her as her cuteness nearly sent me careening into insanity. She was just. So. CUTE. “It’s a good thing she has you as a father then, Varric,” I eventually said. “You talk, like, nonstop. She’ll pick up fast.” With a sigh, I got to my feet. “Alright, I gotta go to meetings and all that good shiz. I’ll see you later.” I bent down and gave Kasi a smooch on the forehead. “Goodbye, baby girl.”

Kasi put one of her chubby hands on my cheek, and I literally could have died right then and there. “You had better get going,” Hawke smirked. “Otherwise you’ll be here all day.”

“I know, I know,” I sighed, and then looked down at Bubba. “You coming, my dude?”

His eyes went to me, to Kasi, and back to me. He shifted his front paws together but stayed put. “Understandable,” I nodded, then gave his big head a scratch. “I’ll see all of you later.”

There was a chorus of goodbyes as I left the sunny garden and went back into the main hall. Josephine and Cullen were immediately there to greet me, both trying to speak to me at once.

“Inquisitor Lavellan, if I could have a moment of your time—”

“Alaran, I need to speak with you for—”

I hopped off the ground so I could reach Cullen’s shoulders. I put my arms around them and yanked him down to a level acceptable with my height. I did the same to Josephine and made sure they were both hunkered down. They couldn’t wriggle out from under my grip, either, because of how strong I was. “Now, you two,” I said as I started to walk. They were forced to walk with me. “What’s the problem? One at a time, please. I’m one of the smartest people I know, but I can’t process two conversations at once.”

Josephine jumped in before Cullen could. “Inquisitor Lavellan, a contingency of apostate mages are requesting safe passage from Wycome to Skyhold. They originally traveled from Rivain, but the city’s local guard have been keeping them from leaving. Their leader, Hana Amell—”

“Amell, you say?” I interjected curiously. “That’s—”

Cullen cut off _my_ cut off. “She is a dangerous mage who should not be trusted. I assume she fled to Rivain because of their… _lax_ methods on mage control. And now she wants to come back to Ferelden? To Skyhold? Why? She must have another reason.”

“And you know her?” I questioned Cullen. We pushed through the door that led to Josie’s office and eventually to the War Room.

“Yes, I did know her. In the Circle Tower of Ferelden,” he replied stiffly, splotches of red forming on his cheeks. There was a deeply guarded secret behind his eyes. “She used methods of blood magic to escape.”

“Begging your pardon, Commander, but your past experiences with a single mage should not deter our assistance for over sixty mages,” Josephine said curtly.

 _“Sixty?”_ I repeated incredulously. I let my arms slip so the two can stand straight and rest their aching backs. “Cullen, you’d have to have known that I’d side with Josephine on this one. Sixty mages!”

“And that’s not counting their families,” the ambassador added. “That would total up to over a hundred refugees that had fled to Rivain at the start of the Mage-Templar War, displaced in Wycome, and in need of our help.”

Cullen let out an exasperated growl. “Even if we _did_ help, how would we get them out? Wycome is not known for its fairness, even in the Free Marches. They would not take kindly to Inquisition soldiers coming into their city, or Inquisition interference _at all.”_

“Then we smuggle them out,” I said obviously, pushing through the doors of the War Room. “I have the perfect candidate who would be willing to do the job for a fair price. And according to Hawke, she’s anchored in Bastion. If we get a raven out within the next couple of hours, we may be able to catch her.”

“Alaran,” Cullen said gravely, “if you’re going to ask the person who I think you’re asking…”

“And who would that be?” I asked lightly as I grabbed a piece of parchment and quill from one of the side tables.

“You know who,” he said with a clenched jaw.

“Who?” Josephine said inquisitively as she scribbled instructions for the connections in Wycome to follow.

I smirked and began to write, _Hey, bitch, I need your help_ on the parchment. Cullen saw it and groaned while Josephine let out a small gasp. “Surely you’ve heard of the great Admiral Isabela, haven’t you, Josie?”

She did, in fact, know about the greatest pirate that roamed the seas. I even think she blushed a little.

I got the message written and stamped it with the Inquisition sigil. Josephine volunteered to take it to Leliana—she needed to speak with the spymaster anyways. That left Cullen, me, and fifteen minutes to spare before I was to speak with some banns from Ferelden.

My hands splayed out on both sides as I regarded the commander with a wide-eyed look. “Cullen, dude, what the shit?”

His face was still red. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, if I do not want a known blood mage in Skyhold.”

“Known blood mage? You say that like you’re trying to convince yourself it’s true,” I frowned, leaning against the edge of the ancient table. Peering over the rim of my round spectacles, I said, “What’s going on, Cullen? You’re one of my closest friends; I can tell when something is wrong.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Wrong, Alaran? What’s _wrong_ is that you’re allowing somebody who I’ve seen perform unholy acts before my eyes and escape before justice was served to her.”

I wasn’t deterred. “What did you say her name was? Hana Amell?”

“Yes.”

My head tilted back a bit as I took in Cullen’s expression and the sound of his voice. “Ah,” I said quietly, “you two had something, didn’t you? That’s why you’re acting the way you are.”

“I would act this way with _any_ blood mage,” he snapped.

“Half the mages here have involved themselves in blood magic!” I said somewhat exasperatedly. “Fear makes people desperate. But do they practice now? No. Because they know they’re safe here.”

“Merely to you they don’t,” he mumbled darkly, as if he knew he would regret the words.

A silver brow sharply arched. “Oh, is this how we’re going to play the game?” I spoke slowly. “You’re going to turn into some paranoid templar again who doesn’t see mages as people? Cullen, _talk to me._ You don’t need to go off the deep end. This isn’t about the morality of mages; this is just about one.”

“You don’t understand, they’re—”

“If you start talking like Meredith Fucking Stannard I’m going to punch you in the throat,” I said bluntly. “I get it, Cullen, you’ve had some pretty horrendous things happen to you in both Kinloch Hold and the Gallows. But if you keep this attitude up about mages and completely disregard _their_ circumstance then we’re going to have a serious problem.” I sighed and pushed up my glasses. “Look, now you’ve just gone and made me upset. That’s not what I wanted. Is it what you wanted?”

Cullen ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled. “No.”

“So. Hana Amell. Who was she and what did she do to get on your shit list?”

“She’s not…” he began defensively, then pulled himself back and tried to calmly explain things as best he could. “Hana Amell was…a particular mage. She had been found washed up on Redcliffe’s shores. They knew she possessed magical abilities when she nearly fried those who were trying to help her. When the templars came and asked what had happened, she found that she had no memory of her life or how she wound up where she was. All she carried with her was a strange accent.”

That sounded familiar.

“A record check showed that she hadn’t been a mage in another Circle. So she was placed in apprentice robes and sent to studying. Irving took a quick liking to her, though some of the others were suspicious. Hana was…quiet. And solemn. And incredibly sharp. She rose through the apprentice ranks quicker than any other before her. When her Harrowing came, Hana passed through it almost effortlessly. She was incredible.” Cullen unwittingly smiled as he described the woman. “For somebody who didn’t remember where they came from, she was sure of herself. A silent confidence, as I think Irving put it. And she always beat me at chess.”

Cullen’s smile vanished and his eyes grew hard. “But she was practicing blood magic right under all our noses. There were rumors of her friend, Jowan, being a blood mage, but I never would have guessed that _she_ was. Hana helped her friend escape the Circle by destroying his phylactery, but he ran like a coward and left her there. Irving was…kind enough to convince Greagoir that she should be made Tranquil instead of being killed.” His voice began to tremble. “She never flinched. Not once. Do you know what she said to Irving when he asked her why she helped Jowan?” I gave my head a small shake, even though Cullen didn’t see it. “She said, ‘Loyalty and love. Such things are nearly impossible to find in a place like this.’ And then she _looked_ at me the same way she always had. Without judgement, without fear, without mistrust.”

The commander rubbed his face. “Hana was to be made Tranquil the following morning. She was as calm as ever—sometimes she was so calm it was unnerving. Like she already had the Rite of Tranquility performed on her. But one look in her eyes and you’d see otherwise. When Greagoir asked if she had any last words, Hana stared him down and said, ‘Your Circle of Magi will fall. Your Templar Order will fall. Everything you knew will be rent asunder. And when your world comes crashing down around you, remember my face. Remember the face of the mage who told you such.’ Then she was laid on the table and Greagoir put the brand to her forehead.”

Cullen drew in a ragged, arduous breath. I should have been on my way to the meeting, I knew, but I had to hear this. I had to hear what happened. “Then what?” I asked just above a whisper. “That can’t be all.”

“No. It’s not,” Cullen replied. His brows were deeply drawn together. “Hana… _did something._ It should have been impossible; any free agency should have been subdued within a matter of moments. But the longer Greagoir held down the brand, the more she resisted. You could…feel magic gathering in the air. But by the time any of us realized what was going on, it was too late. Hana emitted such a force that it knocked down all the templars keeping her restrained. Myself included. And she…she _was screaming._ I never knew she was capable of making such a noise, as wild and animalistic as it was. I’m not sure what happened in the few moments after that because I was in such a daze, but I know that Hana was able to block a templar’s magical purge. Then she pinned every single one of us in the room down with the same magic she used to free herself from the rite. And do you know what I saw?” Cullen’s eyes were completely glazed over, now, too overwhelmed with the past to focus them. “I watched as Hana picked up the brand that had been pressed into her forehead just moments ago, heated it with a ball of flame, and tore off Greagoir’s helm. ‘Remember my face,’ she said to him. Her voice was so…so _empty,_ that for a moment I thought she was actually Tranquil. ‘Remember the faces of the mages that you have forsaken.’

“And then she drove the brand into Greagoir’s cheek.” I inhaled softly, remembering the tale Vivienne and Cassandra had told me all those weeks ago. “I could feel the magic Hana was using to hold us down wane as she centered herself to make a leap out the window. I begged her as best I could to not do it. I didn’t see back then that she was maleficar…all I could think about was what they’d do to her when she was caught. But she only told me that she’d rather freely die because of her actions than live without conscious volition.” Cullen pursed his lips together and steadied himself. “Right before diving through the window, she…told me she loved me.”

There was a silence. When Cullen made it clear that he wasn’t going to talk any longer, I did. “Let me guess: she survived the jump, swam out of the lake, evaded templars using her “profane” magic, and fled to Rivain.” He gave a single nod. “And did you love her back?”

Another, more hesitant nod. “Well…shit,” I breathed. “I’m sorry, Cullen.”

“Don’t be. It was foolish love.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.” I tapped my lips with a finger. “But…are you _sure_ she was a blood mage? I’ve come across quite a few, and I’ve never seen magical abilities quite like you’ve described. It didn’t get inside you, did it? Violate you? Twist you?”

“…No.” Cullen sighed irritably. “But what difference does it make?” he argued. “Even if she wasn’t a blood mage _specifically,_ she was still maleficarum. What other possible explanation is there?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I honestly have no idea. We’ll just have to ask her when she gets here.”

Cullen involuntarily gulped as he realized that he would _actually_ have to see Hana Amell again. “To be real with you, Rutherford, it sounds like this Hana is a badass. I mean, not only did she escape by _jumping out the window_ of a tower known for its height _and_ get all the way to Rivain with a Tranquil brand on her forehead, but brand _the_ Knight-Commander Greagoir himself.” I stood up straight and took a step towards Cullen so I could pat him on the pauldron. “But I get it…I think. You’re nervous. That’s not a bad thing. But don’t be acting all crazy, alright? You’re my brother from another mother, but I’m also the Inquisitor and you’re the Commander. We both have to act a certain way while performing our duties.”

Cullen faintly smiled. The circles under his eyes looked more prominent. “I understand. Thank you. For…for making me talk.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I said with a small smile of my own. Cullen offered his arm out to me.

“Here. Let me at least escort you to your meeting.”

“Why thank you,” I replied, linking my arm with his.

“Alaran,” he said as we exited, “can I confess something to you?”

“Always.”

“Sometimes you are absolutely frustrating.”

That made me chuckle. “I know.”

-

Cassandra was so engrossed in the novel she was reading that she didn’t notice my approach. I took the Seeker’s vulnerability as an opportunity to be sneaky. Crouching on the balls of my feet, I stealthily padded up behind her and seductively purred, “Good book?”

She cried out and leapt to her feet. I smiled pleasantly while she scowled and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 _The_ Cassandra Pentaghast? Trying to play coy with me? “Ah!” I exclaimed, slapping a hand up to my bespectacled eyes to cover them. “It seems as though I’ve suddenly gone blind again! Because of course you’re right, and I have absolutely no idea what I just saw.” Then my hand dropped so I could point to the book she was poorly concealing. “What are you reading, Cassandra?”

“O-oh, that?” She still didn’t bring it out from behind her. “Just reports from Commander Cullen.”

“Hmm, well, last I checked _Commander Cullen_ didn’t bind his reports. But because that lie was so amusing, I’ll give you a shot at another one.”

“It’s of no interest to you,” Cassandra snapped as a blush rose to her cheeks.

“Cass, _everything_ is of interest to me.”

Even though she _looked_ like she wanted to stab me, I knew she wouldn’t and only continued to smile. Reluctantly, Cassandra brought the novel out from behind her and showed it to me. When I saw the cover, I instantly knew why her entire face was a bright shade of pink.

I gasped loudly before covering my mouth. Cassandra glowered at me while I tried to compose myself. The attempt was a complete failure, and I wound up doubled over while gasping laughs shook my body. “Are you through, yet?” she questioned angrily as I choked on air.

 _“S-swords and Shields!”_ I managed to gasp. _“Swords and Shields!”_

“Yes,” Cassandra growled, _“Swords and Shields.”_

It hurt to straighten. I staggered over to the tree stump she had been sitting on and flopped down. “I shouldn’t be surprised, Cass, but I really _am!”_

“Ugh. This is why I didn’t want you ever finding out.”

I was in a stunned state of existence. “I mean, _Swords and Shields_ is like, an AU of his own fucking fanfic! And it’s just…so…”

Oh, I could have gone on for hours and hours about Varric’s poor attempt at writing smutty literature, but the embarrassed look on Cassandra’s face made me stop myself. “You really love that book, don’t you?”

Cassandra clutched it to her chest. “I…I do,” she confessed, unable to meet me in the eyes. “They’re horrible, I know…and magnificent.” I looked up as the Seeker as she towered over me, looking like the physical embodiment of Mt. Doom. “You will _not_ tell Varric about this.”

I clawed at my chest and made an agonized face. “But I _have to!_ Don’t you understand the obligation I now have?” I bounced upright and stood on the tree stump. It still didn’t make me as tall as Cassandra. “And if I remember correctly, _that_ book is the latest installment of the scandalous franchise.”

Realizing that I had given her the opportunity to talk about something she loved, Cassandra said with poorly repressed excitement, “Yes! And it ends in a cliffhanger. I know Varric is working on the next, he must be!”

“Ehhh, I’m not exactly sure he is,” I said slowly, “hate to break it to you, girly, but Varric has been a little…preoccupied with other things. Like, ah, galivanting places with the Inquisition and taking care of his daughter.”

An idea popped in Cassandra’s head. Her brows, which were always so serious and low, had risen nearly halfway up her forehead. I couldn’t help but smile at the cuteness of it. “You! You could ask him to finish it, _command_ him to…” Seeing that I was unashamedly smiling at her, Cassandra returned to glowering and started backing away. “Pretend you don’t know this about me.”

As soon as the Seeker had her back turned to me, I bolted it to the main hall. Immediately I spotted Varric, who had taken up residency at his usual table. He was in his working mode, meaning that I _should_ leave him alone. Merrill and Hawke had most likely taken Kasi off his hands for a little while so he could tend to his own responsibilities, but I knew he’d understand my interruption once I explained it to him.

My hands slammed down on the table, making the dwarf nearly jump out of his seat. “Maker’s ass, Al! What—”

“Varric, _holy fuck,”_ I gushed. “You will _not_ believe what I just found out.”

“Al, you know I love you, but can it wait for a bit? I’m behind on reports, and Curly has been breathing down my neck about them. If he gets any closer he might as well take me out to dinner before screwing me in the ass.”

“I appreciate the analogy, but seriously, my man, my dude, my fella, _you gotta listen to this._ You know that shitty book you made? _Swords and Shields?”_

He paused and looked up at me. “Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, I just got word that the Inquisition’s own Stabby McStab Queen is one of the series’ biggest fans,” I said conspiratorially. Varric gave me a weird look and leaned back in his chair.

“Your shitting me,” he said flatly.

“I shit you not! I just caught Cassandra Pentaghast reading it. And she _needs_ the latest chapter. Really. Bad.”

“She’ll be waiting for a while, then. I haven’t finished it and wasn’t planning to. That book is easily the worst I’ve ever written. The last issue barely sold enough to pay for the ink. And what did you say about it? That ‘if I had to choose between burning _Swords and Shields,_ an archdemon, and the Orlesian court, I would burn the book and then burn its ashes.’”

“Oh, yeah, and I still stand by it one hundred percent. But that’s not the point! The point is, I think that this could be the _perfect_ opportunity to reconcile things between you two.”

Varric slightly frowned. “And what if neither of us want to reconcile?”

I gave him a flat look. “That’s a big crock of shit. Both of you are hurting. I know how you two feel about each other—” Varric opened his mouth to protest but I plowed on— _“and_ I know that you’ve wanted to introduce Kasi to her for a while now.” I primly fixed my posture and put both hands on my hips. “So, as the Inquisitor, I am ordering you to write the cheesiest, sappiest, smuttiest, most _wretched_ chapter of _Swords and Shields._ Leave Cullen to me. When you’ve finished, inform me so I can be with you when you give it to her. There’s no way in hell I’m going to miss _that_ exchange.”

My knuckles _rap-a-tap-tapped_ on Varric’s table before I turned on my heels to depart. “Get to work, Varric!”

-

“…I mean, yeah, of course she’s a spirit and has been doing whatever she wants for thousands and thousands of years, but I just don’t have a good feeling about her going away from Skyhold.”

Solas hummed briefly as he added details onto the rotunda’s mural. His fingers were stained with paint. “I would not worry about her, Alaran. Wisdom is an experienced spirit; she can handle more than most.”

The frown on my face stayed put, though. “The Exalted Plains is… _devastated_ by war, Solas. And what does war do to the Veil? It doesn’t matter that she’s experienced in staying in the realm of the Fade; anything can drag her through. But she won’t listen to my reasoning. Maybe if you talked to her…?”

The paintbrush was lifted from the wall. Solas looked at me and saw the worry lines creasing the corners of my eyes. “Fine,” he eventually said. “But Wisdom is very… _stubborn._ I would advise you to not get your hopes up.”

“Why does she even want to go there in the first place?” I asked, exasperation tingeing my voice.

“Because she is a spirit. It’s in her nature.”

“Well it’s in _my_ nature to be concerned about her. Aren’t you?”

Before Solas could open his mouth to reply, we heard somebody enter the rotunda and stopped our conversation. I turned and immediately smiled at the green-eyed Dalish elf who approached. “Hi, Merrill. What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she apologized. A small pouch was in her hands.

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry,” I brushed off. “Have you met Solas, yet?”

“Ah, no, I don’t believe I have.”

Solas wiped off wet paint from his hands as best he could and gave a nod of acknowledgement to Merrill. “Hello. I’ve heard much about you, Merrill of Clan Sabrae.”

She smiled. “Depending on who you heard it from, I may have been overly exaggerated.”

“Don’t worry, I extinguished some of Varric’s tall tales,” I assured. “I’ve actually told Solas about a lot of your work with restoring the eluvian. He’s quite well-versed in all things ancient elven.”

Merrill’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

He chuckled lightly. “It is an area that I’ve pursued for most of my life.”

She was grinning, now. I loved that about Merrill. That through all her hardships and trauma, she still had the ability to smile brightly at everything and everyone. “It’s always so nice seeing one of us actively try to help restore our People’s history.”

My happy smirk turned stale.

Solas blinked and gave another chuckle, but this one hinted at the Oncoming Storm. “Our people?” he repeated.

Merrill glanced at me and hesitantly laughed. “Yes…the elves. I’m sorry if I offended you; I meant both Dalish and city elves.”

“And you automatically assume that I associate with either of those?” His voice was light and sharp, now. I had been at the butt of it more times than I could count. An intellectual smack-down was coming.

Merrill’s ears involuntarily began to flatten against her skull. “I would imagine that I could be forgiven for such a slight offense. I merely assumed that your studies were for a purpose.”

“For whom? “Your” people who spurned me when I attempted to teach them? Or for those who would rather forget their history altogether? Tell me, what—”

“Alright, alright, enough,” I broke in. “I apologize for my compatriot’s attitude; he’s not always such an…”

“Asshole?” Merrill finished with a bite. She gave me the pouch she had been holding. “A gift from Sandal,” she explained as she avoided eye contact. “I had nearly forgotten about it until I was doing some unpacking.”

“Merrill, wait—” I started, but she had already turned on her heels and exited.

I clutched the pouch and rounded on Solas. “What the hell was that all about?” I quietly demanded to know. The rotunda did strange things to sounds; sometimes a person on the first floor could be heard all the way up to the rookery, and other times somebody could talk as loudly as they wanted and not be heard.

His jaw twitched. “I was not going to be immediately placed in a stereotyped category that demeans the elven race.”

For a few moments, all I could do was stare at him with wide, confused eyes. _“What?”_ I whispered. Solas opened his mouth to explain, but I silenced him with a hand. “No…you know what? That whole thing you just did was pretty insulting. Merrill has devoted most her life to the study and restoration of Elvhenan. _She_ is the type of person you bemoan that are lost in this day and age. And guess what? She’s been spurned and exiled from her own clan because of her pursuit of knowledge and truth. Do you know what else irks me?” My voice dropped even more so, bringing a more concentrated level of frustration. “That your _former_ plans were to “help” the elven race, yet you don’t even associate with them. What help could you bring to those who you don’t know anything about?”

Had I been younger, I would have probably caused a loud scene. But now, all I did was let out a sigh and raise an eyebrow. “Solas, please go apologize to Merrill,” I suggested. “And get to know her before making a final judgement. She is one of the best people around.”

He had the decency to look a little remorseful. “Not everybody in the world is out to get you, Solas,” I muttered. “Not anymore. Just remember that.”

I pulled the pouch’s drawstrings loose and looked inside. After blinking slowly, I poured the contents onto my open palm. “Oh, Sandal,” I breathed as a faint smile curled the corners of my lips.

They were runes. Some I recognized, but most I didn’t. They were all miniature-sized, inlaid on no more than pebbles. “Here,” I said to Solas, dropping a few of them in his hand. “Try and figure these out. The dwarf who made them is frequently visited by Flemeth, I believe, and our own Hallah.”

“Flemeth?” Solas repeated incredulously.

“Yeah. A woman whom I’ve met, as well as Merrill, Hawke, and a few of the other Kirkwall gang. Do you know what she said about Merrill? That she’s done good for the People, or something along those lines. And we both know who Flemeth _actually_ is, don’t we?”

I put the runes back into their pouch. “Alright, I’ve got to get back to work. Talk to me again after you’ve said sorry.”

“I will.”

When I got back to my room, Hallah was waiting for me. “Ready for another talk?” she asked with a smile. I stretched down on the couch.

“Oh, you know it.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry it's been a while since I last updated. I've been doing a play at my community theater (The Odd Couple, for those of you who were oh so interested. I'm Florence Unger, the OCD character), so my life has been busier than normal. But I hope all of you enjoyed this last chapter! It's so good to be able to start introducing Hana Amell, one of my other OCs, as well as hint at what's going to happen to Wisdom and how it'll affect Al and Solas. 
> 
> But I hope all of you are being as lovely as can be.


	53. What it's Like to Have Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al spends time with her Inner Circle

“Alright, bitches, prepare to have your medieval asses handed to you,” I announced as Solas and I walked up to the table on the second floor of the tavern.

“Easy, Al!” Varric chastised as he covered his daughter’s innocent ears. “Kasi is here!”

My jaw dropped. “Varric, what the f—what the poop? I wouldn’t exactly call this a “child friendly” atmosphere. Bull and Sera are coming! And Hawke’s here, not to mention!”

“I have a very clean mouth, thank you very much,” Garrett said stiffly. “Unlike you, I’m not sucking Solas’ d—”

 _“Hey!”_ Varric interrupted.

“What have you been sucking, Alaran?” Solas politely asked. I narrowed my eyes at him and playfully hit his shoulder while everyone else laughed.

“Sucking lollipops,” I answered, looking directly at cute little Kasi with a saccharine smile. “Because that’s what everyone does!” After unslinging the lute strapped to my back, Solas and I pulled up seats at the large table composed of littler ones. We had to accommodate for the size of all those who were joining in on some Wicked Grace.

“Why is your uncontaminated daughter here anyways, Tethras?” Dorian questioned as he sipped on his glass of dark, dark wine. “Do you want her learning how to curse in five languages?”

“She’s a little behind on her speaking skills,” Varric replied as he lightly bounced his daughter up and down. Josephine leaned over and gave her a little cookie, cooing and easily succumbing to her cuteness. “So I figured that it might help if she’s around more people.”

The others looked to me as if I should be the one who did something about it. But I merely shrugged my shoulders and began slathering butter on a slice of bread. “He’s her parent, not me.”

“Yes, but you’re basically her _older sister,”_ Dorian debated. “Aren’t you worried for dear little Kasi’s well-being?”

“Honestly? Compared to where she came from, I think she’ll be alright here. So what if she picks up a few swear words along the way?”

Sera and Bull came up the stairs, making a ruckus just by existing. “Who’s ready to get focking _wasted?”_ the city elf shouted as she cupped her hands around her mouth.

“The Iron Bull’s gonna fuck this place up! You’ll all be shitting side—” the Qunari abruptly stopped as he saw the physical form of innocence sitting on Varric’s lap. Bull loudly groaned and drug his great big hands down his face. “Awww, nooooooo!”

“Why is everybody looking at me like I’m the bad guy?” Varric protested. “If anything, I think all of you _should_ be more kid friendly!”

“Bosssss,” Bull went on to grumble whiningly, “do something!”

“I will or will not act when the varying situation may or may not call for it,” I said vaguely while tearing off some of the bread crust. A moment after throwing it under the table, I heard a snuffling sound that could only be Bubberston. I missed my dog, but his time was better spent being a bodyguard. “Now can we just _start_ the game? I have a pouchful of money that I don’t expect to lose!”

“That’s because you’re a ruthless cheater,” Cullen complained. “Do I have to be here? I have a lot of work to do—”

 _“Everybody_ has a lot of work to do,” I interrupted with a grand gesture. “But social interaction outside of work is proven to prevent the progression of Being a Dud.”

“A Dud?” Blackwall repeated.

“Yes, a _Dud._ Ya know, a stick in the mud, a square, a stuffed turkey—”

“You’re just making this up—” Cullen put in.

“—Or, my personal favorite, a _Cullen Rutherford,”_ I finished knowingly, causing a bout of laughter. The commander huffed as Blackwall patted him consolingly on the back. One of the serving girls brought me a mug filled with water—just as I had always ordered them to—and took a swig. “Come on, Josie, deal us in! Let’s get going!”

“I see you brought your lute with you,” the ambassador observed as she expertly shuffled the deck of cards.

“That I did, my sweet Antivan. I figured I’d serenade you guys to soften the blow of me taking all your money.”

“You’re talking a big talk, Alaran,” Blackwall said with such seriousness he had to be joking. “But let’s see if you can walk the walk.”

“Chuckles,” Varric spoke to Solas over the small roar of several other conversations happening around the table, “it’s all up to you. I know Al; she’s learned how to play cards from a pirate, myself, a band of mercenaries, and other cheating low-lives. The only person who has any hope of defeating her rampage is you.”

“I will do my best,” Solas replied austerely, but I knew that he was accepting the challenge.

Josie dealt all of us our cards. Leliana, Vivienne, Cassandra, and Merrill were absent from the game, and I hoped that they were at least finding a bit of peace and relaxation somewhere. Besides them, everyone else was here. It would have been nice to have Alistair, but he was still on Grey Warden business and wouldn’t return to Skyhold until tomorrow. And who else—

“Noticeable noises cascade through the tavern, creating and catching memories that sink into the wood.”

I turned to my left and saw Cole. Sera loudly groaned. “Aw, no, Ally! Not ‘im! He’ll just ruin the game!”

“Cole!” I greeted jovially, ignoring the blonde. “Would you care to join us?”

His pale eyes flitted about the table and the occupants surrounding it. “They do not want me. I am too haunting, too hesitant, too not-human—”

“Well, they had better get the fu—the flip over it,” I said with a reassuring smile. “Come on! You can sit right next to me.”

“It’s nice to see you not moping around Skyhold, Kid,” Varric supported. He and I both exchanged winks.

“Place your bets,” Josephine announced.

“Solas thinks he can beat you,” Cole neutrally said to me.

“He _thinks._ He doesn’t know. And I’m going to give him—and the rest—a taste of defeat at the sweaty hands of Alaran Lavellan.”

“Ew,” Sera grimaced. “Nobody wants to know about your sweaty hands.”

I reached over and smeared my palms on her face. She screeched and wrestled me to the ground, knocking a chair over as we went. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Bull chanted as everybody else watched with either irritation or amusement. Maybe a combination of both. It was a well-known fact that Sera and I regularly engaged in brawls, both within the walls of Skyhold and out. Our altercation only ended when Sera won by ruthlessly tickling my stomach.

As we both clambered back into our chairs—giggles still running rampant through me—Dorian drained the rest of his wine and slammed the empty goblet onto the table. “Can we _finally_ get started, now?”

-

Two hours and more than a dozen stories later, I laughed loudly and collected my small fortune. “We were counting on you, Solas! You’re the brains of this entire operation!” Dorian shouted.

“Apparently not,” Solas said back. There was a numb, bemused expression on his face.

 _“Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger,”_ I poorly rapped as I jangled the pouch of gold in front of me, _“But she ain’t messin’ with no broke fellas. Get down girl go head get down. Get down girl go head get down.”_ I added a whip and a nae nae for good effect.

“Your world’s music continues to disturb me,” Blackwall grunted, frustrated that he had basically been gipped of all his money. “Are all of the…Otherworlders…as devious and arrogant as you are?”

“Not all,” I answered with a charming smirk. “So you should be very grateful that you got somebody as special as me.”

“Winning!” Kasi repeated, causing the focus to immediately be turned to her. I clutched my heart and staggered as I was overwhelmed with pride and a weakness to her cuteness. Little Kasi said a word she had never spoken before, all thanks to me. Because, as I had been coming out on top of almost every round of Wicked Grace, I shouted _“Winning!”_ in a Charlie Sheen voice nearly every fifteen to twenty minutes.

“Dear Maker,” Dorian bemoaned, immune to Kasi’s adorable tactics, “help us.”

After our mini-conniptions, I scooted my chair back and settled the lute in my lap. It was yet another thing Bodahn had sent me, and one of the most anxiously-awaited.

Cullen perked up upon seeing it. “Is that the same one that…?” he started.

“Yes, it is,” I replied as my fingers comfortably took position on the instrument. “So, funny story, guys, but back in Kirkwall _Cullen_ found me all broken-hearted over this even more broken lute. This was back when I lived in the alienage. One of the templars had smashed it for some thoughtless reason or another during their mage searches, and I was already so on-edge that day that seeing its remains kind of destroyed me for a little bit. But after Cullen happened upon me and apologized for what his associates had done, I asked for him to throw the lute away for me. _Instead,_ though, he came back a couple days later with it looking as good as newly used.” I peered close and found the seam on the lute’s neck where it had been repaired. “And it’s served me well.”

“Are those…scratch marks?” Josephine inquired with a little squint. I shifted the lute so I could examine the part she was looking at.

“Yeah. I was trekking through the Vimmarks when Bubba and I were attacked by…oh, what are those nasty little men called? Ghasts?”

Hawke nearly flew out of his chair at the mention of them. “I hate those fuckers!” he outright yelled. “Do you know what one tried to do to me when we were at Chateau Shitting Haine?”

“One tried to crawl up your bum,” Varric, Cullen and I echoed, recollecting the story told a thousand times.

“One tried to crawl up my bum!” he stated, slamming a fist on the table. Garrett already had a fair amount of liquor in him, and when he had liquor he got…louder. Endearingly so, but loud all the same.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sera slurred. She couldn’t hold her alcohol that well, but it never stopped her. “Wot the fock is a ghast and why did it try to crawl up yer ass?”

During the fifteen minutes that Hawke drunkenly recounted his harrowing story, I struck up a warm, mellow tune on the lute. My fingers moved wherever they pleased, creating and composing something that only existed in the world for a short while. When he finished, it was Josephine who asked me if I could play a song for them.

“Would you like a sad song or a happy one?” I enquired.

“Happy one, please,” Dorian answered before anyone else could. “I think a sad one would make me want to pitch myself over the ramparts, after all the money I’ve lost.”

“Dorian, you’re Tevinter nobility,” I said dryly. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine. And besides, look at this way. A _technical_ elf took all of your money; maybe it’s a start to healing the centuries of slavery and injustice your people have caused.”

Unable to come up with a retort, Dorian gave the best murderous look he could muster. I laughed and repositioned the lute. “This song goes out to Dorian Pavus,” I announced to the table, “the man who is too pretty—and too smart—to ever die.” A wink towards the altus made him glower a little less. “I’ve actually been working on this for a while, now, in my spare time. Lutes have been out-of-style in my world for probably a thousand years, now, but I’m just so good with music that I got it to sound nice.”

“Always the modest one,” Varric sighed.

“Why thank you,” I glowed. “I always love talking about how humble I am.”

There were some anticipated groans that only made me stronger. I struck a chord and started swaying to the familiar music. A hum warmed the bottom of my throat.

 _“Somewhere over the rainbow_  
_Way up high_  
_And the dreams that you dreamed of_  
_Once in a lullaby_

 _Somewhere over the rainbow_  
_Blue birds fly_  
_And the dreams that you dreamed of_  
_Dreams really do come true ooh oh_

 _Someday I’ll wish upon a star_  
_Wake up where the clouds are far behind me_  
_Where trouble melts like lemons drops_  
_High above the chimney top_  
_That’s where you’ll find me…”_

There was nothing like _Over the Rainbow_ to make people feel dreamy and whole. It was a little strange to be singing in a tavern, but I wasn’t the type to care. Receiving an appreciative round of applause from friends was all that I needed.

I could never get enough of nights like these.

-

Alaran Lavellan, the Inquisitor of the Inquisitorial Inquisition, Herald of the Maker’s Bride, Wielder of the Anchor Which Resembled Female Genitalia…

Was lost.

“Fuck fuck fuuuUUUU _uuuu **ccckkk,”**_ I sang in a high key. My voice bounced off the abandoned, cobweb-covered walls. If Bubba were with me, he’d be able to find a way out. But _noooooooo,_ he had to protect the Gem of Skyhold—Kasi Tethras. And, of course, I couldn’t blame him. Except he was my personal, smelly GPS system, so without him I could sneeze and wind up in the fifth fucking dimension of Switzerland or something.

All I wanted to do was get to the gardens and listen in on the poetry reading led by the Valo-Kas’ own Kaariss, but I thought that the door next to Josephine’s office was simply another route. I could have sworn that I had taken it before.

Turned out I was wrong.

 _But because_ I held perhaps a little too much pride, I couldn’t just recognize my mistake, turn around, and head back out the door. Instead I delved deeper into the uncharted areas of Skyhold, convincing myself that I’d find my way back out in no time.

Again, I was wrong.

It had been about twenty minutes and I was still as lost as shit. I could have called on the Omnipotent Cluster-Fuck known as Hallah Lynne, but that same ol’ pride still had a grip on me. So, I figured that I might as well get super _lost_ so I could eventually find my way out.

It was the damn Wicked Grace game the other night. I got too arrogant about my own devices, and apparently karma existed even in Thedas. This was payback. If the others found out that I had… _been…_ in this certain predicament, I would be reminded of it _quite_ vehemently.

So, obviously, they would never know that this occurred. Not unless I could never find my way out and died down here. Then they’d have to excavate my corpse along with the rest of these dusty relics.

Which, by the way, were _really_ interesting. The artifacts, statues, and paintings didn’t all come from one specific era. Even with my limited knowledge, I could see that there were things dated all the way back to Arlathan, and then some dwarven craftsmanship, then of Tevinter origin, with a few Avvar stuff scattered in between. Had _nobody_ realized this was here, yet? Even though Skyhold has been established for months, now?

And then I found THE LIBRARY.

I was like damn Kirby, with how loud and deep I gasped. It went on for probably another five minutes before I sprang into action, blowing away cobwebs and letting my grubby paws hover over the ancient texts. I wanted to open them up _so badly,_ but I didn’t want them to fall apart. Dorian and Vivienne and Solas needed to see this— _oh, Solas!_ This castle used to be his! These texts were certainly elven, with the way the Veil caressed them like precious secrets. Maybe if I brought him down here, we could go over them? What information did these texts contain?

The large tome propped up on an equally old desk called to me. I couldn’t understand what was etched into its pages, but I _wanted to._ I swear, if I was in Skyrim the daedric prince I’d probably worship would be the embodiment of tentacle porn himself, Hermaeus Mora. I mean, maybe not _forever,_ but at least for a time. He was kind of a bad dude who killed people for knowledge and trapped his worshippers inside a never-ending library after they died. I loved knowledge, though, because knowledge was power. And I could change the world with power.

Okay, I didn’t mean for that to come out so ominously.

I lost track of time in the hidden nook that probably predated the foundation of the Chantry, but eventually continued my search of finding my way out. Success was reached when I heard knives chopping on wooden boards and people mutedly conversing. _The kitchens._ I smirked triumphantly and transformed my walk into a strut—

And stopped when something peculiar caught my eye.

Disgust twisted my lips as I stared down at what lay on the little table. Not even Andraste’s Ashes could cure me of the image that burned itself into my retinas.

A copy of _Swords & Shields._

And a crusty sock.

“Ew,” I whispered so quietly that only dogs could hear it. The clang of pots and pans drew my attention back to the kitchen door, and then I put two and two together…

I wanted to vomit Exorcist-style.

With a deep, tormented frown, I barged into the kitchen, scaring all the working kitchen staff. When they realized it was me, their Inquisitor—looking _thoroughly pissed_ —they all began to scramble around before I silenced them.

“Everyone,” I spoke clearly, “I think it’s time that you have a little lesson on _hygiene_ and how disease can spread through food. I would also like to speak with the head chef about cleanliness and food preparation.”

That lecture-turned-interactive-workshop took another forty-five minutes of my time. When I finally left that area and went to the rotunda where Solas was, the elf looked genuinely relieved to see that was still in existence.

“There you are,” he exhaled as he strode up to me.

I gave a little bemused smile. “Yes, here I am...? Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

Solas returned my question with a bemused look of his own. “Alaran, where have you been for the past two and a half hours? All of Skyhold is looking for you.”

“Wait…what?”

As if on cue, Dorian squawked from his spot in the library like a freaking alarm bird. “Sister Leliana! I found her!”

Solas and I craned our heads up to where the Tevinter was, and then continued onward up to the rookery. _“Yeesh!”_ I couldn’t help but exclaim as I saw the Orlesian version of Frollo glaring down at me. If Leliana was a bad guy, she would have jumped over the railing and done a super-villain landing to confront me.

Solas tilted and said in my ear, “I believe she wishes to know where you’ve been.”

Nobody was supposed to know, though. _Nobody._

I sighed and let my shoulders sag. “I was lost,” I murmured. “I got lost.” In a louder voice, I shouted to Leliana and all those who were in the library and rookery to hear. “I WAS LOST, OKAY? ARE YOU HAPPY? UGH!”

The bald dude next to me didn’t help by involuntarily snorting. “You were what?”

It was my turn to glare at him, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. “Lost, alright? In the fetching underbelly of Skyhold. Which, actually, is why I’m here _specifically._ Never mind me coming just so I could get a chance to look at your nice features.”

That compliment made him shine a bit more.

-

“I don’t understand _whyyyyy_ I have to do this,” I whined to Vivienne, who ignored me and continued to direct the trio of musicians to an acceptable place. “I’m the Inquisitor; I don’t have to dance if I don’t want to.”

“You’re the Inquisitor,” Josephine said in that overtly polite tone of hers, meaning that she was trying not to be irritated with me. “Dancing at Halamshiral—and other events to come—is an integral part of the Game.”

Not wanting to frustrate the _real_ woman who kept the Inquisition from falling into the brink of chaos and bankruptcy, I sighed loudly and held my tongue. I didn’t like dancing. Wait. I mean, I didn’t like _coordinated_ dancing because, well, I didn’t have any control over my feet. You would _think_ that I’d be good at keeping pace because of my musical aptitudes, but you’d be wrong. I had literally zero talent when it came to any type of dancing that didn’t fall under the “Dad at a Barbecue” category.

The others had been ~~forced~~ invited to the class, seeing as all of them most likely needed a course on dancing. Even though Halamshiral was still a few months away, we “needed all the practice we could get” according to Madame de Fer. I had _no_ idea what she was talking about.

…Okay. Maybe I did.

“My time could be better spent doing work for the Inquisition rather than standing here,” Cullen grumbled.

“You and me both, Curly,” Varric agreed. He was already getting antsy about being separated from Kasi this long.

“I don’t want to be here at all,” I muttered under my breath so Josephine and Vivienne wouldn’t overhear me.

“You three, I swear, are some of the biggest complainers about things that aren’t even that bad,” Blackwall put in, overhearing our exchanges.

“I don’t think you realize, Blackwall, that I _can’t dance,”_ I breathed, unashamed of my shortcoming. They would all see how horrible I was at it in a few moments, anyways.

“You openly admit to that?” the false Warden teased, a grin under his beard. “I didn’t believe that I would ever hear the Amazing Alaran Lavellan confess to being _bad_ at something.”

I rounded on Blackwall, ready to snap back a retort, but Josephine loudly cleared her throat and made me bring my attention back to her. “Shall we begin, Inquisitor Lavellan?”

“Are you wearing steel-toed boots?” I asked back as I reluctantly stepped forward. Sera whistled encouragingly and Hawke hooted.

“I will be fine, I assure you,” Josephine smiled. I grimaced and looked down at her finely-clad feet.

“Oh, I don’t think you will. But okay.”

“Seeing as Grand Duke Gaspard has invited us, there will be no doubt that you two, at some point, will dance with each other,” the ambassador went on. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at that bastard’s name. “I will impersonate him so you can get a taste of what the Winter Palace will contain.”

“Yeah, I’ll ask him to autograph the book he had published that correlated elves to actual rabbits,” I scoffed derisively.

“You will do no such thing,” Josephine said seriously, knowing me well enough that I might actually do just that. She then proceeded to imitate him by bowing. “There will first be introductions.” Though I hoped that she would put on a terrible Orlesian accent, I was quickly disappointed. Lady Montilyet bowed, and I followed with a bow of my own. Through much dispute, we established that matching suits would be worn to the Winter Palace (I just didn’t want to wear a ridiculous dress that I knew I’d be thrown in). It got me out of curtsying, too.

“It is an honor to have you here, Inquisitor Lavellan,” Josie spoke as she straightened her back. I held out my hand for her to take. She lifted it and leaned slightly to press a kiss to the back of the hand.

“The honor is mine, Grand Duke Gasfart,” I said in a deep, nasally voice. Josephine barely restrained her scowl while everyone else in the room howled with laughter. Even the musicians couldn’t hide their smiles, but after a glare from Vivienne they tucked their amusement away.

“Gasfart!” Sera shrieked as she fell onto Hawke for support, who was roaring with his own boisterous laugh. Cullen was hiding his teenage boyish snorts behind his hand, and Varric was already writing _Gasfart_ down on a piece of paper so he could remember it later. Dorian, Solas, and Cassandra were shaking their heads but chuckling while Blackwall and Bull filled the room with their raucous enjoyment. Cole was the only one who was standing there in mild confusion; jokes still went over his head.

I covered my grin with a hand as Josephine regarded me with resigned irritation. “You have been saving that one for quite some time, haven’t you?” she queried. I nodded rigorously. “Can we begin, now?” Another nod. I removed my hand and placed it on her waist while the other gripped her own. The laughter died down enough for Vivienne to start up the band. They produced a lively tune that I immediately recognized as a waltz.

“And a one, two, one two—”

-

“It started out as amusing, but now it’s just pitiful,” Dorian said, summarizing everyone’s thoughts as they watched me fail the simplest of dances for the millionth time in just one

“Can I _please_ have a break?” I begged to the nicest—and strictest—teacher ever, Miss Josie. “I’m not getting anywhere with this. Here, why don’t I just, ya know, _pass it along to somebody else?_ I hear Cassandra is absolutely _terrible_ at dancing. And she’s nobility!”

“Not as terrible as you,” Cassandra said bluntly, creating a chorus of _ooohs_ that made my ears flatten against my skull.  But I had to admit, it was a sick burn.

“I swear to my lord and savior Gaben that if I have to dance with _one_ of those stunted Orlesian men I’m going to send them into the buffet table,” I said exasperatedly, then mimicked a violent dance in which I picked up the poor little person who was my dancing partner and imaginarily hurtled them into the wall. Cassandra snickered. She usually liked jokes at Orlesians’ expense.

Vivienne was having none of it. She had sent the musicians away twenty minutes in upon seeing that I couldn’t get past the first three measures without messing up. To make up for their absence, the mage resorted to sharply rapping a baton against the back of a chair to a three-fourths beat. “Oh, and do you suggest enrapturing the court with moves from your own world?”

A wicked smirk spread across my face. “As a matter of fact, _yes,”_ I hissed, crouched down on my knees, placed my hands on my hips, and **twerked.**

Cullen slapped a hand to his face, cheeks burning red. “Hot damn, Boss!” Bull crowed, while the rest either laughed or groaned. It was always a fifty-fifty with them, so I usually rolled with it. The twerking evolved into the Carlton, then I _really_ got into it. I started doing the acapella version of “It’s Not Unusual” to amp things up, and, despite Josephine’s protests, ventured back to my friends, dancing around them and singing. The reactions were pretty positive, surprisingly. Apparently, seeing me act like a total dork was amusing to them.

When I was finished, mostly everyone agreed that I should do just what I had done to woo the court.

Except for Josephine and Vivienne.

“My dear, if you don’t take this seriously, the empress will be assassinated,” de Fer reminded.

 _“Good,”_ I snapped back with a little too much bite.

“Wait,” Sera drawled before I could retract my statement and move onto other things, “you want the Empress of Orlais dead?”

“No,” I lied effortlessly. But my thoughtless outburst had already been seen and evaluated by some of the most observant people in Skyhold—all of which happened to be in this very room. “I’m just sick and tired of trying to be taught something that I _obviously_ can’t comprehend.”

“Perhaps you just have the wrong teachers,” Solas suddenly said. Josephine tightly smiled at him as he strode forward.

“Oh? And you believe that you can do better?” she questioned.

“That is something we’ll have to see,” he replied with his usual amount of vagueness. He outstretched a familiar hand. “May I?”

I smiled and took it. “You may. And I apologize for what I’m about to do to your feet and self-confidence. Unless there’s a Spirit of Dancing that you’re going to summon, I think I’m done for.”

“Do you have that little faith in me?” Solas asked softly enough so the conversation was just between us.

“No, not at all,” I replied. “I have little faith in _myself.”_

Solas’ lips curved upwards, and for a few moments reality slipped away as I got lost in them.

Then the baton started counting, and our feet began moving.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter was so delayed in coming. I've been pretty busy, lately, and went through a bout of writer's block. But I hope all of you enjoyed it! One of my favorite things to write in this fic is the banter between Al and all her friends, so I really liked creating this bit. 
> 
> And for those of you who are unfortunate enough to not know what the Carlton is, here is a link to what it looks like on YouTube www.youtube.com/watch?v=zS1cLOIxsQ8 
> 
> Stay lovely <3


	54. One Chainz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al goes campaigning

A whole freaking month had already passed. I could hardly believe it. Time had flown too quickly, and I _still_ didn’t get enough done—

_You won’t ever have enough time._

I gritted my teeth together and forced the dark thought out. It was too early in the morning to be thinking things like that.

“Are we ready?” I asked the party that was accompanying me on the campaign. I got a few sleepy grunts in response. After sneaking a treat to the Tirashan Swiftwind I was riding, I mounted the hart and got a better view of my surroundings. Skyhold was barely illuminated with the morning light, and though frost didn’t cover the ground I could still see my breath. My companions consisted of Solas, Iron Bull, Cassandra, Blackwall, and Cole. Varric had to take care of his “younger daughter,” as the others so _sweetly_ put it, and needed to stay at the fortress. Dorian and Vivienne had taken on the task of renovating the lower part of Skyhold that I had rediscovered, and Sera was on a Red Jenny/Inquisition mission that would benefit both parties greatly. I’d miss the four people that wouldn’t be able to come, but I was going to have a grand ol’ time with the people I was with.

And Bubs, well…he had _more important_ things going on in his dog life, now. But we got a good cuddle in before I had to leave.

Solas rode a Brecilian Sure-Foot, Cole a Dalish All-Bred, Cassandra a Green Dales Feral, Blackwall a Fereldan Forder, and Bull an Imperial Warmblood. It was all very impressive.

“Wait up a sec, will you?” Varric called as he tiredly walked up to us. Leliana trailed behind, as silent as the shadows that still blanketed a majority of the area. They had most likely come separately, but decided to walk together once they saw that they had the same destination.

“Good morning, you two,” I said as I adjusted the greatsword strapped to my back. “What can I do ya for?”

“A letter for you, Inquisitor,” Leliana immediately replied. She outstretched her gloved hand, a rolled missive in her grasp. I reached down and took it from her, then unrolled it and peered over the rim of my spectacles as I read it. As my eyes darted across the parchment, a happy smirk appeared.

_Hey Bitch,_

_Did what you asked. I’m looking at the cargo right now. They should get there in about seven weeks. Hope you have plenty of ale._

_Kisses!  
The Pirate Queen_

I reread it a few times before handing the small scroll back to Leliana. She’d be arriving at the same time we’d return. “A storm is coming,” I said to the spymaster. She wryly smiled.

“Cullen’s heart is going to fail.”

“Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“I always do.”

Tilting my head to Varric, I half-chuckled, “Guess who’s blessing Skyhold with their presence?”

“Who?” For some reason, he looked a little distracted.

“Admiral Isabela.”

A laugh. “No shit? Wow. Skyhold is going to get a lot more fun.”

I agreed with a nod, but was a little off-put that Varric didn’t react more. “So, what did you want to say to me?”

He awkwardly paused and scratched the back of his head, making my brow raise slightly. My eyes then drifted down to the item in his other hand. _Ah._

“Actually, uh, I—I need to give something to Ca—Seeker.”

Cassandra, who was a few feet away from me, nearly jumped out of her saddle. She sharply regarded Varric as I turtle-frowned to hide my smile. “Oh? And whatever could that be?” As nonchalant as I tried to make the question, it didn’t exactly sound that way.

She snapped her eyes over to me. “Alaran.” It was a low growl in the back of her throat. “What is the meaning of this?”

Varric crossed to Pentaghast, who tried to look at him and not look at him all at once. Everyone else was pretending like they weren’t watching the juicy scene unfold. “What have you done now,” she continued to growl at me.

Her apparent uncomfortableness made Varric _more_ comfortable, so he easily chuckled and said, “I get it, Seeker. You’re still sore after our spat all that time ago.”

“I am not a child, Varric,” Cassandra said heatedly, voice warming up the brisk air. “Do not suggest I’m without reason.”

He shrugged his shoulders and went on. I could see the way her eyes lit up when she saw him offer the freshly written novel. “A peace offering: the next chapter of _Swords and Shields._ I hear you’re a fan.”

Behind me, Solas repressed a snort.

Cassandra looked back to me. “This is _your_ doing, isn’t it?”

“What? Me? No!” I feigned. She glanced back down at the book and forcefully turned her nose up at it.

Varric sighed a little too loudly and began to backtrack. “Well, if you’re not interested, you’re not interested. Still needs editing, anyhow.”

He turned his back on her and slowly started walking away. “Wait!” Cassandra practically cried out as she jumped off her horse. I could only see the back of Varric’s head, but I knew he was triumphantly smiling.

“Ah, you’re probably wondering what happens to the knight-captain after the last chapter,” he said, stopping and tantalizingly looking over his shoulder.

Cassandra gasped. “Nothing should happen to her,” she breathed fearfully. “She was falsely accused!”

“Well, it turns out the guardsman—”

“Don’t _tell_ me!” she yelled exasperatedly before ripping the book out of Varric’s grasp, who didn’t put up any fight.

Leliana and I exchanged amused looks. Varric cleared his throat and spoke to Cassandra as she was getting back on her mount. “This is the part where you thank the Inquisitor. I don’t normally give sneak peeks, after all.”

“I…thank you,” Cassandra meekly said to me. She was thoroughly blushing and holding the novel like it was a precious gem.

“This is everything I could have asked for,” I said with equal parts playfulness and truthfulness. “You had better pace yourself.” Then I smiled at Varric and gave a small nod of thanks. He extravagantly bowed and began to backtrack.

“Be sure to tell your friends about it, Seeker.” In a lower voice that only Leliana and I heard, he added, “If you have any.”

I lolled my head back and let out a throaty snicker. “Okay, errybody, let’s get going.”

-

“Harding!” I exclaimed, spreading my arms wide, greeting the dwarf in our usual fashion.

“Inquisitor,” she smiled wryly, hazel eyes beaming in the glaring sunlight. But despite the sun exposure, the temperature was still brisk. Springtime seemed to stay away from the Exalted Plains, believing that it, too, would have its essence destroyed by the civil war.

“What do you have for me?”

It was a question I wish I didn’t have to ask. I was then bombarded with reports of the undead, of the Freemen of the Dales, of unattended rifts, and of the overall Orlesian battle. Stupid Celene and Stupid Gaspard, with their stupid politics and stupid interests. I’d see them both dead by the end of all this.

Well. Maybe just one.

Was it wrong of me, to plan a murder? Was it wrong of me to not feel the _wrongness?_ I had read too many books from too many great authors to know that what I was doing was not what heroes did. It was not what those who strove for greatness did. What I was planning rotted good hearts, good people who let the darkness consume them.

Yet I wasn’t a storybook character. I was just…a leader who had to make momentous decisions.

But had I forced myself to think that what I wanted to do was for the good of Thedas? I was a little afraid to look deep enough, for what I’d find might not be what I wanted to see. Was I corrupting myself? Was I sending the Inquisition down a darker path because of what I, personally, was doing? My choices, they had to be in the interest of the Inquisition, and the interest of the Inquisition would be helping, leading, restoring, protecting.

Protecting. I’d be protecting generations if I followed through.

But what would be the cost? There was always, _always_ a cost.

“Boss, you think too much, sometimes,” Bull mentioned, rumbling voice bringing me out of my…thinking. He and I had just taken down an arcane horror controlling corpses in one of the ramparts, and were now helping the living soldiers drag bodies into a fire pit so they could be burned. The stench of death didn’t bother people like Bull and me, anymore, so we had no problem dragging the dead and getting our hands dirty. Still, though, I got everyone to wear pieces of cloth over their mouths and put on gloves to keep some of the disease away.

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked back, voice muffled by the scarf I doubled as a mask. “I got a lot of things going on.”

“Yeah, but do you really just _enjoy_ things, anymore?” Bull easily threw a corpse into the pit, where it made a rather loud _thump_. “Without thinking about a million other stuff at the same time,” he added.

“Even if it were true, so what? I still find enjoyment in plenty of places. It’s not my fault I’m thinking about other stuff at the same time.”

“Like Solas?”

 _Ah. A freaking set-up. I’m not even going to bother being surprised._ “And if it is about Solas? Why would you care?”

Bull rolled his massive shoulders, one eye narrowing in amusement—or was it scrutiny?—at me. “We all know you two like bumping uglies and stuff, that ain’t no secret. But are you sure you wanna keep at it? There’s something…off about him.” He grumbled. “I can’t place it, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, but it’s there.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I assured. “I know Solas more than you do. We’ll be fine.”

“So,” he said in a more conspiratorial tone as I made a signal with my hand to have the pit burned, “what’s ol’ baldy like in the sack? Is it hard to not have hair to grab onto?”

He was trying to make me blush, that was blatantly obvious. But my silence, compared to my usual sarcasm, made everything even more glaring. “Ah,” Bull concluded as we started to walk, hopefully, back to camp, and not some other place that required the Inquisition’s attention for the day. The sun hung low on the horizon, seemingly imprisoned behind the strange rock formations that spiraled into the sky. Harding had been right. This place had been something of beauty, once, before it was ruined by wars. “You and Solas haven’t done anything, yet.”

“Nope.” There was no point in hiding it. Our conversation got paused as we regrouped and got more information out of the captain stationed at the rampart. It was evening, already, but there was a rift nearby that could be sealed without traveling too far from the main Inquisition outpost. The Exalted Plains was still too dangerous of a place that we could camp in without clearing a wide range, first.

“Why?” Bull followed up as I shook my left hand after just sealing the tear in the Veil.

“Because.”

“You scared?” He asked it so casually, and I couldn’t help but give him a look. Why was he so _interested?_

“I’m a spy, remember?” Bull reiterated, reading my expression. “It’s my job to know things.”

“Like my sex life? What are you going to do, report to your superiors that no, the Inquisitor hasn’t had sex, yet, which is so _very vital.”_

“Nah, they don’t care about what you do in the sack—not anymore.” He scratched the base of his horn, and I noted how flaky the exterior was getting in this kind of weather. I’d have to pull a few strings so he could get some horn balm. “But now that I look at it, everything makes sense; you and Solas have got a lot of sexual tension between you two. Most of the time, normal people act on it.”

“I thought it was perfectly clear that I’m not _normal,”_ I said, trying to deflect as best I could.

But Iron Bull didn’t let up. “So what’s the problem? You afraid he’s got a small lamppost? Because I’ve seen it, and—”

“No,” I interrupted with a sharp exhale. “It’s not that. It’s not _any_ of that. So will you just fucking drop it, okay?” I didn’t want to _talk_ to Bull about all that was going on in that certain aspect of my life. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone except for Hallah, because of her counseling, and Solas, because of our relationship.

“You got raped in the Gallows, didn’t you?”

Said aloud in the cool spring air on the plains, the sentence seemed to carry on for miles and miles. I snapped my head to Bull, who had stopped—because I had halted. The others were walking behind, idly conversing and hopefully out of earshot.

_Please, don’t let Cole come, now. I couldn’t take it. Not from the both of them. Not from any of them. I’m not—I haven’t dealt—I can’t deal—_

I started my pace, again. “I’ve said what I wanted all of you to know about there,” I replied in a voice too detached from my body.

“How have you been handling it?” This time his voice was low, quiet, neutral.

_Bull cared about me. He can shift his character from one side to another in the blink of an eye. Be wary about that._

Still, though, I allowed myself to be cared about.

I let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, just fucking great. It’s a wonderful memory, one that I often fondly revisit.” He waited for me to breathe for a few moments, regaining composure and a cooler mind. “I talk to Hallah Lynne about it. About what happened. She’s helping me. Properly.”

Instead of looking aghast or affronted at the mention of the notorious woman, Bull simply nodded and hummed. “Good.”

“So,” I sighed, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from the busy, bloody day, “what made you want to bring up one of my traumatic experiences in the middle of this fucking shitshow?”

“Ah, just wanted to make sure you weren’t going into anything with Solas that you weren’t ready for, yet. Too many people force themselves, and that just makes things worse.”

“Well, I’m getting there.”

“Does Solas know?”

“He knows…I think. I haven’t outright spoken about it, but...it’s hard, telling somebody you have a lot of feelings for. At least for me.”

“You should talk to him about it sometime. Communication is key in a relationship.”

I raised a speculative eyebrow. “I’m sorry if I offend, but is a Ben-Hassrath _really_ giving me advice on relationships? The Qun doesn’t really _have_ that sort of stuff. I mean, if I wanna know what it’s like to get fucked with a strap-on—which, I would never use, because I can just go with the real thing—I’ll come to you.”

“Yeah, because the rest of this group is filled with people who are experts on relationships,” Bull said with a wry smirk. I glanced behind my shoulder at those who followed behind, frowning.

“Point taken,” I muttered. I hadn’t realized that I was surrounded by romantically stunted people. The only person who I _could_ go to was Vivienne, who 1.) wasn’t with us, and 2.) was technically a mistress. But even then, she had been a mistress for a very long time. I had to give her that.

Bull clapped me on the shoulder, gray hand engulfing it. “You’re alright, Boss. Don’t want to see you hurting.”

My heart warmed. I looked up to him, eyes wishful. Nobody was around to judge the Inquisitor’s actions, at the moment. “Can you put me on your shoulders?” I asked. In one motion I was scooped up and placed at the helm of The Iron Bull. My legs dangled in front of his pillowy man bosoms, and my arms rested on his horns. A smile shone on my face.

“How’s the view from up there?” Blackwall called. I twisted and looked back at everyone, smiling. My eyes landed on Solas, who was regarding me with a light in his gray-blue eyes and an upward curve to his lips. Looking at him washed away some of the inherent fear. It’d all be okay.

It would be okay.

“The view is spectacular,” I answered. Absolutely spectacular.

-

We had been in the Exalted Plains for over a week, now, and while things were tidied up and more Inquisition bases established throughout the region, it’d take more management to alleviate the deep wounds the war had caused. At least we had allied ourselves with the Dalish in the area, rebuilt a few destroyed roads and bridges, and sealed all the current rifts. Iron Bull wanted us to kill the High Dragon that was spotted in the Crow Fens, but it wasn’t bothering anybody, so I told him to leave it alone. Yes, I would have to drink dragon’s blood at some point if I was to complete my specialty training as a Reaver… _but_ I didn’t really like the thought of ending such a majestic creature’s life. It _was_ their age, after all.

“So, Cass, how’s the book?” I drawled as all of us sat around one of the fires in the camp. It was our last night here, and we celebrated by lounging and putting our sore and tired feet up. Blackwall was whittling, Bull was sharpening one of his various weapons, Solas was examining an ancient text we found, and Cole was tracing his fingers in the dirt. I brought my sketchpad along, filling the pages with new memories and moments. Charcoal smudged my fingers as I drew.

The Seeker looked above the edge of the novel. She ravenously read whenever she had the chance, and by now was almost finished with it. I could tell things were heating up in the story, with the way her knees were curling tighter against her chest and eyes brightening. “It is… _brilliant,”_ Cassandra breathed. “Varric has outdone himself.” A blush crept up her cheeks.

“Fingers, calloused, caressing her skin, imagining that it was _them_ in the books,” Cole suddenly murmured. You never knew whenever he was going to start spouting off a private thought. “He calls her Seeker, whispers Cass—”

 _“Cole!”_ Cassandra snapped harshly. The rest of us furiously bit our grins back and tried not to think too hard about Pentaghast having dirty thoughts about Varric. The spirit boy blankly stared back at her, confused at what he had done.

“I don’t understand,” he spoke.

“You will, one day,” I said to Cole, glancing up at his sweet and strange face and making a final stroke on the drawing. “Hey, come here, I want to show you something.”

Instead of getting up and coming over, Cole simply went _pop_ and wound up right next to me. I tilted the sketchpad to him so he could see what I completed. The sketch was a simple one. It was a headshot of Cole, and though I thought I got the proportions of his floppy hat right, I wasn’t quite satisfied with the depths of his eyes. Then again, I wasn’t a Shallan Davar, so I settled. Without digital software to blend or smooth things over, my sketches were sharp and angled. If I tried harder I could do better, but I kind of liked the messiness.

“It’s… _me,”_ he whispered disbelievingly. Large, slender fingers gently pressed against the thick page, smudging it a bit. Cole instantly recoiled, but there was a joyously bewildered look on his face. “I touched me.”

“Most boys your age do,” Bull chuckled. I shot daggers at the Qunari and mouthed a definite _NO._ Blackwall, however, let out a hearty laugh.

“Yeah, it’s you,” I said to Cole. “How do you like it?”

“Like it?” he repeated in that soft, dream-like voice of his. “I…I don’t know if I like it.”

“Does it make you feel good?”

“Well, if he’s touching himself, then it should,” said Bull.

“Hey!” I barked. Even Cassandra joined in on the dirty joke, snorting loudly and losing focus on her novel. Turning back to Cole, I said, “Well, why don’t I put some lacquer on the picture and you can keep it? Then you can spend more time thinking about if you like it.”

“May we see the drawing?” Solas asked, fully setting down his text. I hesitated a moment too long.

“She keeps it private, pulled shut, avoiding—” Cole began.

“Not showing people my art is an old habit of mine,” I interrupted before Cole could make things sound pathetic on my part. “Don’t ask me why.”

“Why?” Bull asked. I gave him the stink-eye.

“Because one time my mom crumpled up and threw away something I drew for her in front of my eyes when I was little. I never mentally recovered. That’s the best I could guess,” I shrugged, then handed Solas the sketchpad. Suppressing the instinctive panic that tried to take hold of me, I watched as Solas’ eyes scanned the page. He hummed approvingly and gave it back.

“It’s a unique style.”

“Unique good or unique bad?” I questioned.

He gave me a flat look. “Bad. Horribly so. I was nearly sick looking at it.”

“Is that how you feel when you look at me?” Cole said to Solas in earnest. Then it was my turn to laugh with everyone else. The conversation soon dissipated when fatigue finally hit us, and though it wasn’t extremely late at night, stars twinkled above the campsite. I was the first one to retire to my own private tent, seeing as the establishment was large enough that none of us had to share. Once we’d get on the road again, though, I’d be buddies with Cassandra. Who, unsurprisingly, didn’t like sharing a tent with me because I was “too cuddly” or something. I didn’t understand it. Solas liked cuddling with me.

I half-hoped that he would come join me in my tent—I liked the way I felt whenever I woke up with him lying next to me. Solas drooled a lot on the pillows, but I tended to kick, hit, and bite while I slept, so it all evened out. And besides, whenever we were close, we tended to have fun times in the Fade.

But alas, there were too many people around for him to sneak on over, or vice versa. I wished we were back at Skyhold, where I had a whole chamber to myself and not _as_ many prying eyes.

Speaking of which, I wondered how everyone back home was faring without their favorite Inquisitor. Probably terrible.

-

“It feels wrong being here,” Dorian said as he, Sera, Kasi, Bubs, and Varric crept up the stairs to Alaran’s room. The city elf had picked the Inquisitor’s lock a little too easily. “Or am I the only one with a moral compass?”

Varric snorted and Bubba gave the closest thing to a dog-laugh. Dorian scowled and huffed. They got to the top of the staircase and found themselves in the illustrious Inquisitor’s chambers. “Why are we here, again?” Varric asked, letting his daughter down on the ground so she could wander. Bubba trotted over to her rather grand, four-post bed and hopped on, then promptly started rolling around on his back.

“Ally has a pretty big frickin’ head, yeah?” Sera said as she started digging through Alaran’s wardrobe. Dorian picked up the novel on her nightstand that she had been reading before their departure. _Civilizations Beyond Thedas._ “Just wanna see if I can prank her so it can deflate a little.”

“Sera, you know if Al gets pranked, she’ll get some pretty vicious revenge,” Varric said, sitting on the couch and putting his feet up on the low table. “She’s never been one to simply let things go.”

“For good or bad,” Dorian tutted as he flipped open the book. “Now, why would our Inquisitor want to know about this sort of thing?” He was immediately intrigued, though couldn’t read the copious amounts of annotations Alaran had placed on the margins. They were all in English. Perhaps he’d get her to teach him about the different literary language when she returned. Dorian wouldn’t admit it, but he already missed that wiry, problematic, peacemaking bundle of sarcasm. Alaran had been a vastly wonderful enigma right from the start, and hadn’t ever given Dorian a dull day.

He even remembered the first day their paths crossed. Alaran wore that ridiculously oversized hat which shielded her face from templars, that shielded raw pain she desperately needed to hide. And look how far she’d come.

“Leave it alone, Sparkler,” Varric warned, but there wasn’t much effort put into the sentence.

“Does she seriously believe that there are…outside forces? Why would she even be concerned with it, when there’s _more_ than enough to do in Thedas?”

“Maybe to help Brosca,” replied the dwarf, nonchalantly shrugging. “Who knows? If Al wanted to tell us about it, she would.” He was then distracted by Kasi, who gave him a random object. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she chimed back, and turned to find other things to give as presents. That made Dorian smile. She was getting better at speaking, though had already dropped a variety of cute-sounding curses.

“Hm. I’ll have to ask her about it when they return.” Dorian set the book down. A second later, Sera whooped as she found something worth screwing with.

“Well, well, wouldya look at this,” she crowed, and held up a handful of underwear and socks. “I got me some rashvine powder. Once I put a bit on all this, Ally will grab them ‘cause they’ll be on top. She’ll be schmoozing nobles when she gets a case of nasty itches.”

“You’re looking for a world of hurt, Buttercup,” said Varric, but made no move to stop Sera.

“Wot? It’s gonna be grand. She won’t even see it coming.”

“There’s where you’re wrong, Sera,” Dorian said, cocking an eyebrow. “Alaran sees everything. Past, present, future—nothing escapes her gaze. Am I right, Varric?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Kasi repeated.

Sera blew a raspberry. “She can’t see from all the way in Orlais.”

-

“You look troubled, Alaran,” Solas said to me as we settled into the forward camp in the Emerald Graves. Trees towered over us, green and vibrant, its beauty masking the horrors that had been committed on its land.

I patted my mouth, feeling the definite frown on my face. “Yeah, yeah I am troubled. I’m very troubled, Solas. I _know_ Sera is going to prank me, but I just don’t know _what.”_

He chuckled low in his throat—I loved that sound. “Ah, yes, I remember the “lizard” incident. Sera still brings it up.”

I ungraciously snorted a laugh. “That was pretty freaking great. Because it was _you,_ not me.” My smile faded. “Oh, lord. What sweet hell does she have in store for me?”

Solas put a hand on my arm, right below the pauldron. “This may be a little off-topic,” he quietly said, “but I wanted to inform you that you look absolutely radiant.”

I lazily smiled and tilted my head to him, blush-free. Solas’ eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re just looking at my sunburn,” I said back as I saw him examine my cheeks. “It’s gonna take a lot more to make me blush, honey bun.”

The both of us immediately started at my terminology. Then, with a sputtering laugh, I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “It seems as if I don’t have to try at all,” Solas said, silently beaming. “You do the job quite efficiently yourself. And there’s no snow for you to bury your face in, this time.” His hand was still on my arm, like he couldn’t bring himself to let go of me. I found myself sinking into the moment, allowing—

“Inquisitor!”

Somebody was _always_ shouting my title. Solas removed his touch from me and returned to a more formal posture. I did the same, putting up the veneer and focusing my attention on the commotion that I had been called to address. A fair number of soldiers were gathered around the entrance of the camp, buzzing around somebody who was sitting in the center. Even from my distance, I could see that whoever was drawing concern had left a fresh trail of blood up the stone stairs of the ancient elven ruin we now claimed for use.

I didn’t have to push my way to get to the center; the soldiers parted for me. “What’s going on?” I asked the officer in charge, who was crouched by the Inquisition soldier sprouting a nasty wound on the arm. I knelt beside him.

Before the captain could reply, the soldier opened his ashen lips and shakily said, “H-High Dragon, Inquisitor. W-we were looking f-for a good place to camp a-a-and—” Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m the only one who got a-away.”

A grimness settled in the air. “Captain, have a message sent to Fairbanks. Our rendezvous will have to wait.” I stood, and after turning saw that my companions had made their way into the circle to see what was happening. “Stock up on potions,” I neutrally ordered them. “We have a High Dragon to take care of.”

“But, Inquisitor Lavellan!” the captain exclaimed, scrambling to his feet as well. “The area is still largely unmapped; you could lose your way. And not to mention that it will take more than a few people to bring down a High Dragon! We’ll need a whole contingent of soldiers—”

I raised a calm hand to silence him. “Have faith, captain. I’ll have experienced dragon fighters with me.”

“I-if you’re worried about getting lost,” the poor soldier on the ground piped up, “just follow my blood. I was injured near its grove.”

I gave a single nod, knowing that he was being completely serious. There wasn’t much else to be said, so I returned to my tent and strapped on my greatsword, put my helmet on, and made sure all the straps to my armor were secured. After retrieving an abundant supply of potions and elixirs to help me should I get injured, I was ready to go.

Or, at least, I thought. “Here,” Cassandra said to me, holding out coiled chains with a grappling hook attached at the end, “you’ll need this.”

“Thanks,” I replied, and slung the gear over a shoulder. “Are all of us ready?”

“Boss,” Bull grinned, because _of course_ he would be grinning. I figured he had been waiting for this day since the second he signed onto the Inquisition. “This is going to be one of the greatest days of your life.”

“If we don’t die,” Blackwall said skeptically. “Are you _sure_ you want to do this, Alaran? You’ve never been one to engage in…this sort of stuff.”

“We can’t have a High Dragon terrorizing our forces. None of the others we’ve come across have ever posed a problem, for their reputation and size. And though I have faith in our soldiers, I don’t want them getting hurt in this fight. Too many people around will only make everything bloodier. I trust all of you; we know how to work as a team, and together we can take it down.”

“Can we finally do the move we’ve been working on, Boss?” Iron Bull excitedly asked. I pointed a finger-gun at him and winked.

“Maybe, Bull. Maybe.”

“You want to voluntarily be pitched at a High Dragon?” Solas inquired. Was there a hint of concern in his voice?

Wait. No. There was _definite_ concern.

I mean, I couldn’t blame him. They had all witnessed the new “fighting technique” Bull and I had been perfecting for the past two weeks, most of them being used as cushions. I was trying to come up with a name for it, other than “Throw the Inquisitor into the Fucking Air.” That one was a little wordy.

“Solas,” I assured confidently, “Bull and I are professionals. We know what we’re doing.”

Blackwall summed up everyone else’s thoughts. “We’re all going to die.”

-

So. Lemme tell ya about something I learned from fighting High Dragons.

Don’t.

“That, my dear friends, is a Greater Mistral,” I stated as we came to the legendary beast’s clearing. It stank of rotting meat and that particular reptilian smell—amplified by a thousand. The area was flattened, but just behind where the dragon rested was a sheer drop. Meaning that one wrong move, one wrong hit, and we’d be recreating the scene from _The Return of the King_ where Denethor flies off the edge of Minas Tirith.

“How can you tell?” Cassandra inquired. There was a sweat on her brow; the day had already warmed up to temperatures we weren’t used to.

“Well, it fits the descriptions from all the books about dragons I’ve read,” I replied with a forced evenness. I knew dragons were huge—I’ve had a few run-ins with dragonlings, drakes, and even a couple regular dragons. But a _High Dragon?_ They were beyond massive. Like, line up a couple of semis, stack some on top of those, and then _maybe_ you’ll get a grasp of how big it is. “You feel how the air is a bit cooler here?”

“No,” Blackwall said plainly. He, too, was sweating.

“Well there is. I’m guessing that it’s ice-based.”

“Lovely,” Solas said, whose staff was ice-powered. He’d have to expend more mana just to cast fire spells.

“Cole, you flank it as much as possible, and keep an eye on Solas. Blackwall, Bull, Cassandra and I are going to be doing the heavy-hitting and try to take it down as quickly as possible.” Under my breath, I muttered, “I wish Sera was here.” Not only would she love getting to fight a dragon, but was basically a walking grenade. She was armed to the teeth with them, and could have used a few to disorient the dragon.

“Do I have to be a heavy-hitter?” Blackwall asked me. I looked at him through my helm, smirking.

“No. you can be a pussy instead.”

Now, normally I _never_ use that word, but it was just enough to rile Blackwall. He darkly chuckled and slid the visor on his own helmet down.

“Don’t die, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said.

“Worry not, Seeker Pentaghast. I’ve created a fallback plan, should I meet an untimely end. Instead of Inquisitor Lavellan, it would be Inquisitor Tethras.”

She glared at me. “You’re not serious, are you?”

I only hissed a laugh. “She sees us,” Cole spoke, redirecting our focus to the Greater Mistral. The dragon was regarding the area we thought we were hidden behind. The power in her gaze alone was enough to make my knees tremble. “Warm and weary, she doesn’t want to be here, but there was no place else to go. She knows why we’re here, why we’ve come. But she was scared, the soldiers were too close to her nest, and now we’re too close.”

“Aw, Kid, don’t give the dragon _feelings,”_ Bull groaned.

“She was just protecting her eggs, wasn’t she?” I quietly questioned.

“Yes.”

I lolled my head back and let out a soft whine. “No, Boss, don’t let it get to you—we’re here to kill it before it kills more of us. Besides, you gotta eat a dragon heart if you want to become a Reaver. And think of the _glory_ you’ll get from taking it down!”

“The path to glory leads but to the grave,” I quoted tiredly. “But you’re right. We have a job to do. And I know _you_ just want me to eat a dragon’s heart, Bull. The most I ever have to do is drink its blood.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra grunted, standing upright. “Let’s get on with this.”

Not the most inspiring way to go into battle, no.

Iron Bull, who was oh so eager to attack and get his groove on, got taken out by a swipe from the dragon’s tail fifteen minutes in. Which, in all reality, was very disappointing, seeing as we wouldn’t be able to do our signature move. With the three-hundred-and-something-pound Qunari promptly unconscious and in the middle of the chaos, Cassandra, Blackwall, and Solas had to drag him out of the way so he wouldn’t get stomped on. That left Cole and me to fight on our own.

_That left Cole and me to fight on our own._

The spirit boy was fine, seeing as he could zip around jabbing weak spots and getting out of the way just fine. I, on the other hand, was up shit’s creek.

The High Dragon swiped at me, screeching at an insanely loud volume. Vertigo overwhelmed me, seeing as I was at such lose proximities to its enormous mouth. I was barely able to lift my flaming greatsword in time to block its claws from dicing and slicing me. The hit was so brutal, though, that my hands immediately went numb and lost hold of my weapon. At the same time, I flew several feet into the air and fell hard on my back.

“Alaran!” I heard Solas cry out. The dragon, who was breathing down on me, roared in pain as a blast of fire hit the side of her vibrantly-colored face. I rolled back up to my feet and reequipped myself. Cassandra and Blackwall were booking it back to help me, but they were running low on stamina. Who knew that fighting a High Dragon would consume energy?

Much to my horror, the Greater Mistral began expanding her wings to create another mini-hurricane. If we let her do that, we’d be screwed. With a war cry, I unslung the chain Cassandra gave me and back-tracked to get a better distance. While the two other warriors distracted it by attacking her underbelly, I vertically swung the chain and grappling hook around several times until it got momentum. Then I let go and watched it wrap around the dragon’s thick neck and embed two of its three hooks into the softer part behind her skull. She screamed and jerked upright, wings beating even more frantically as she reared back.

This obviously wasn’t well thought-out.

My feet left the ground as the mistral began bounding in an attempt to shake me. I bounced along behind, trying to keep on my feet but failing miserably. “Inquisitor! Let go!” Cassandra bellowed from across the battlefield. But if I let go, I’d go spinning off the side of the cliff. As I clung on for dear life while being drug along like a poorly-built kite, I spotted a nest full of glistening, iridescent eggs hidden behind a large cropping of rocks.

Then the dragon stopped jumping from place to place. Except instead of hitting the ground again, I started violently whipping in the wind.

“OH SHIT!” I shrieked as I realized the fucking High Dragon had _taken flight._ The ground quickly became a wide landscape below me, companions becoming a tiny speck amidst the rolling green hills. I saw the sheer, flat cliff face the dragon resided next to, and had to briefly wonder what could have done such a thing. From the aerial viewpoint, it didn’t look natural.

_Titans._

I looked back to the Greater Mistral, trying to determine if she was going to land again or would keep flying until she shook me. Either way, I was going to hit the ground and die. And yes, I told Cassandra that I had a fallback plan, and yes, it _was_ actually Varric who I would have appointed, and _YES,_ the Inquisition’s sigil would be formally changed to the dead spirit-horse with a sword driven through its head we found in the Fallow Mire. But I’d much rather live, come to think of it. I still had too much to do.

There was only one direction I could go in this situation: up.

It was like elementary gym all over again, where I had to climb the rope so I could touch the ceiling. Except, you know, the rope was a chain and the ceiling was a dragon and the floor was a mile drop.

I placed one hand in front of the other, trying to pull myself up as quickly as I could without being too hasty. As I got closer, I began feeling the heat radiating from the dragon. A sweat broke out on the back of my neck, which was immediately cooled by the chilly air at this altitude. My ears desperately needed to be popped, but I was a little too distracted by trying not to die to fix the problem.

Though I was almost certain that I’d never make it, I managed to clamber onto the High Dragon, right where I had sunk the grappling hook in. She roared again, but this one was a shorter interval and medium-pitched. We were currently flying away from the clearing, but she’d be turning back around to her nest after a while. Unless she wanted to suffocate me by gaining altitude. In which case, fuck.

Yet as I sat up, feeling the wind try to tear me from my seat, I couldn’t help but let my breath be taken away by the view. I hadn’t seen the world like this since I had flown a plane back on Earth. It was _terrifying._

And completely exhilarating.

The Greater Mistral’s wings slowed, riding on the current given to her. I could **feel** the power she held, feel the Veil glide around her as if she were simultaneously in the Waking World and the Fade. There was also the sense of a higher intelligence, except I wasn’t smart enough to understand her language.

Words couldn’t explain the raw joy I felt. My hands were clinging to the chain still wrapped around her neck, but I wanted, _needed,_ to feel as free as I possibly could without dying. Lifting my grip, I flexed my legs as tightly as I could around the Greater Mistral’s broad neck so I wouldn’t be torn off by the wind. My arms lifted up, a wide grin spread across my face, and I shouted in pure delight and glee. There was nothing, nothing that could ruin this moment.

I was _flying on the back of a dragon._

“I’m sorry!” I shouted to her, hoping that she would hear and comprehend. “I’m sorry! You hurt my people, and I thought there was only one way to make sure that never happened again! But you were just trying to keep your babies safe!” I choked off as she suddenly dove. My butt lifted from its seat and I scrambled to grip the chains. The force of resistance I started feeling was tearing at my consciousness. It wriggled under my helm and flipped it off, leaving my head unprotected from the elements. I stopped wondering why my spectacles always stayed on; they were given to me by Hallah, so they probably had special properties.

Not knowing what else to do, I laid my head against the dragon’s hot neck, feeling blood against my cheek. It flowed from the injury caused by the grappling hook.

A strong impression came upon me, nearly as strong as the crushing force I was currently facing. _Drink the blood. Drink the blood. Drink the blood._

I followed it, turning my head until I was looking straight down at the wound. Then I pressed my lips against it and slurped. My own mouth and chin received cuts and bruises from both the dragon’s scales and the grappling hook. The taste of the blood was sharp and spicy, coating my throat and burning it. I continued to swallow, trying not to gag. _That’s what she said._

Then the power kicked in.

The world became high-definition. I lost sense of the cold, the pressure. A raging desire to _fight_ coursed through my veins, but there was something more, something deeper.

I saw without seeing. There was a draconian bloodline that ran all the way through the ages, before humans, before elves, all tracing back to a…a _queen._ And she was looking at me, with fire, with fire and fury that liquefied my bones and replaced it with something much, much stronger.

The giant, beating heart of the Greater Mistral I now shared blood with matched the pace of my own. She leveled out and tilted, heading back to the clearing. The earth was far below us, now, but I could see beasts and men alike crawling through the Emerald Graves. When I looked above me, into the dizzying vastness of the sky, I caught stars that otherwise couldn’t be seen during broad daylight.

And when I looked around me, I saw the shimmer of the Veil, the curtain that divided two realities.

“Wow,” I whispered, awed by the newfound awareness. That’s all I really could say.

I found the companions standing there before they ever saw me. They were gearing themselves up to go back into the fight. Bull was on his feet again, fortunately. I felt the Greater Mistral prepare herself to blast them all with ice, but I growled at her to stand down. She snapped her jaws in response. We landed without violence, though, and I removed the hook from her hide before jumping down and landing on both feet.

Mostly everyone was staring at me in shock. “Boss,” Bull breathed, good eye shining.

I turned from them and faced the mistral, who had lowered her head so it was even with my body. We weren’t equals; I could never be as great as a dragon. But I had tasted her blood, tasted their power, and would now always carry it with me. Ice formed around her maw, but hot breath billowed onto me. An impression imbued itself into my conscious.

_Take the children. Take the children. Take the children._

“To the Frostbacks,” I added quietly, picturing the jutting peaks still capped with snow. “I will.”

She snorted lowly, throat vibrating with the sound. Her ancient, reptilian eyes went over to those standing behind me. The dragon stared at them for a moment before moving to a disinterested expression. She turned and lithely walked to the cropping of rocks where her nest lay behind, disappearing from view.

“Alaran?” Cassandra prompted hesitantly. Hair wild and eyes wilder, I looked over my shoulder and smirked at them. A mask of dried blood covering the lower half of my face. 

“The list of those in need of the Inquisition’s assistance has now grown.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sooo I've been waiting to write that dragon scene for a while, now. And will Bioware please tell me when the Queen of Dragons is going to show up??? Also, on an unrelated note, WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE SPACE BABY IN ORIGINS??
> 
> Oh, and fair warning: the chapter after this dabbles into a crossover. If any of you have read my other fics, you'll know that I'm a shameless crack crossover fic writer. 
> 
> I hope everyone is having a good day, and that this chapter made you laugh. I know it made me chuckle.


	55. The Dragonborn Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al meets a legend

“I still can’t believe you rode a _dragon,”_ Bull said for the millionth time. He spoke it at least every other sentence. I mean, I couldn’t blame him; what I did _was_ pretty cool. And because of what I did—what I drank—five iridescent Greater Mistral eggs were now being transported to a secluded part of the Frostbacks by some very, _very_ brave soldiers. They had a High Dragon flying over them to ensure they stayed at their best.

The prospect of returning to Skyhold stood fondly in my mind. We had been so busy each and every day that the month and a half of campaigning passed in the blink of an eye. It left me wondering if I had done enough to help and repair. But with the Freemen of the Dales suppressed for a while and Red Templars eradicated from the areas, things appeared to be…better.

“You aren’t feeling…bloodthirsty, are you?” Cassandra prompted, also for the millionth time.

“No, Pentaghast, I’m not,” I assured. “The only thing I’m thirsty for is a bottled glass of Mountain Dew—which they don’t have here in Thedas. Been that way for twelve years—man, have I _actually_ been in Thedas that long? I mean, yeah, _my world_ doesn’t have dragons, but we do have soda. I think that’s a pretty fair exchange.”

“My heart breaks for you,” Solas deadpanned. I gave him the side-eye.

“Don’t be like that, man. I had to leave a lot behind from Earth. Such as _soda,_ and _pizza,_ and _chicken nuggets,_ and _Lucky Charms—”_

“Alaran those are all foods,” Solas interrupted. I threw my hands up in the air, affronted.

“So what? I think those are perfectly reasonable things to miss!”

“If you miss your food so much,” Blackwall said at an infinitely slow pace, like he was talking to a child, “why don’t you make it yourself?”

 _“Because you can’t just make processed foods by hand!”_ I speedily hissed. “The only thing I’d be able to recreate is pizza, and I can’t exactly buy the required ingredients at the nearest supermarket. Hell, I was such a rich little girl that I only stepped into one _twice,_ and I didn’t buy things either time! My nanny bought all the stuff!”

“You’re ranting,” said Solas, deeming it acceptable to say such a thing. I turtle-frowned and glared at him, noting the twinkle in his eye and easy posture.

“I am unappreciated here,” I woefully complained.

“You’re the Inquisitor,” Cassandra reminded flatly.

“Still!”

“Aand now she’s pouting,” Blackwall observed with a chuckle. I scowled and slumped in my seat.

“I’m feeling _very attacked_ right now.”

“Hurting, hurting and harmonizing, the world is divided but it’s not her world and she can’t get back home,” Cole said, bringing the light-hearted atmosphere of our group to a halt. I pursed my lips and twisted in my seat to look at the spirit.

“Is that really what I’m feeling?” I inquired skeptically. “We were just joking around.”

Cole, who was looking to a small gully on our left, turned his pale blue eyes to me. “Not you.”

My eyebrows drew together. “What?”

A figure completely clad in black clambered up the gully. I pulled the hart to a stop, drinking in the strikingly familiar outfit the mystery person wore.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra said lowly. “Who is that?”

The person spotted us staring at them and froze. From their stance I could tell that they were on edge, ready to attack at any moment. “No effing way,” I whispered to myself.

“Alaran, don’t,” Solas tried to warn as I dismounted.

“Boss, this doesn’t feel right,” Bull said, but he was already getting off his horse to join me. “I know you’re still riding on that fearlessness high…”

The figure began striding forward. I heard several weapons get unsheathed. _I can’t be right. No. Impossible. Nah._

And yet the armor was an exact likeness to something from an imaginary world. Black cape, black hood, black cowl. Eyes that shone behind the darkness that couldn’t possibly be conjured from the material alone. Two regular-length swords were equipped on each hip, one radiating blackness from its sheath and the other a faint brightness.

When the person got close enough, the wave of weirdness she—because I could tell from her female physique—gave off was nearly the same type I felt when I first met Varryn. And yet at the same time it carried its own uniqueness.

I didn’t have much time to analyze it, however, because the figure lithely reached down and drew a sleek, ebony blade. I tensed and instinctively reached behind my shoulder to grab the hilt of my greatsword.

“You will relinquish your goods and your money,” the woman said in a thick Nordic accent. “Do so, and I’ll let you keep your lives.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I said, still incapable of believing who stood right before me, “let’s talk things out, shall we? There’s no need to shed blood.”

“A lone bandit,” Blackwall spat, “against us? Let’s be done with this, Inquisitor.”

“Not now, Blackwall,” I said tightly. Everybody heard the unusual tone of my voice and tensed even more so. “Look, how about we all lower our weapons and see what the fuss is about.”

“There is no fuss about anything,” the _bandit_ spoke bluntly. By now she was close enough that I saw her yellow, slit-pupil eyes. “You are getting robbed.” She brought the tip of her ebony sword up to my neck. I glanced down and saw ancient, unrecognizable engravings imprinted on the blade. “Now, please, I don’t wish to kill you. I have—”

She recoiled and threw up a magical barrier just as a bolt of ice cracked against it. I made the executive decision to fight, seeing as any chance of diffusing the situation had gone to shit.

It was a good thing all our mounts were used to battle, for they merely trotted off to get out of the way instead of running wild. As the woman regained her balance from the hit, I spun out of the blade’s way and brandished my sword, using my thumb to ignite the flames.

She pulled out her other sword. It glowed with a heavenly aura, contrasting sharply with the one in her left hand. The woman came at me, dueling with an astonishing amount of combined strength and speed. The fighting style was something I had no training with, so I was reeling to adjust. Fortunately, she was distracted by a massive Qunari who rammed against her. Bull collided into her back with a roar. We thought that would be the end of it—any normal person would have been knocked out, if not sustained a broken back.  Yet she simply grunted, rolled, and encapsulated herself with a swirling, golden light.

I was taken aback for a moment, but quickly readied myself for another round. I bit my lower lip hard enough that it’d draw blood and swallowed it. The world sharpened immensely as a barely-controlled rage thundered in my ears.

Screaming, I came at the woman and moved with an intensity I could barely keep up with. She cursed something in an archaic language and went on the defense. Cassandra joined my side, and together we pushed the attacker back. Solas cast a spiked wall of ice behind her, causing her to trip. I dove in, not for the kill, but for the finish, and—

_“ **Fus Ro Dah!”**_

Thunder clapped, nearly bursting my eardrums. Something _hit_ me with such force that I was thrown into the air alongside Cassandra, both landing painfully on the ground. My head snapped against the hard earth, ripping the breath from my chest. I lost grip of my sword. Was this what being affected by _magic_ felt like?

I didn’t enjoy it one bit.

The others must have been hit with the blast, too, for nobody sprung to the rescue as the woman came to stand over me. The golden blade was pressed to my neck, this time. Since I was lying still, I could now fully see the twist of the Veil that surrounded her, as if it were trying to push the woman out of this world.

Like she didn’t belong.

Through the rattling wheezes, I breathed one word. One title. One name.

_“Dovahkiin.”_

The metal against my neck never sliced into skin. Instead, I was hauled upright and lifted off my feet. “What is this world?” the Dragonborn harshly asked. “How did I get here? How do you know me?”

I struggled to get a normal breathing pattern back so I could answer. “You’re…you’re in Thedas. I don’t know. And it’s a little hard to explain.”

She shook me a few times. _“Dreh ni lo!”_

“I…I don’t speak dovah,” I whispered hoarsely. “But if you just set me down…then maybe we can figure things out.” Unable to stifle the sarcasm, I added, “Just like I wanted to in the first place.”

“Let the girl go, Skyggen,” a new voice put in. The two of us turned our heads down to a shaggy, gray, nondescript wolfhound who had randomly appeared. He talked like somebody from New York, striking something in me that hadn’t been plucked in a long time. “She’s our ticket out of here. Got a feeling in my bones.”

Huh.

A talking dog.

Wow.

The Dragonborn listened to him, though, and dropped me so suddenly I landed on my ass. The dog padded up to me and sat on his haunches. “The name’s Barbas,” he said, mouth unmoving. “And my compatriot and I seem to have gotten ourselves in quite the predicament.”

The fangirl in me had been amped up to a near-stupefied level, however, meaning that all I could do was sit there slack-jawed.

The Dragonborn scoffed and sheathed the sword she still held. Dawnbreaker. Yeah, she had picked me up with just one hand. “A part of me wishes that you weren’t here. Then you wouldn’t take up the supposed role of acting as my conscious.”

“Divines know you need one,” Barbas retorted.  “If you had killed this girl, you would have been murdered shortly thereafter. And that cannibal horse of yours and I wouldn’t have a way of getting back home.”

“Can you blame me? She looks like a Falmer.”

The insult sunk through my shocked state. My face scrunched up. “That’s really rude,” I murmured, then hoisted myself up. The time to fangirl would come later. Right now, I had to deal with the very _real_ fact that a legendary figure from a completely different world had fallen in the midst of Thedas.

“The dog,” Blackwall said numbly, reminding me that he and the others were still present. “It’s talking. The dog.”

Barbas sighed and scratched behind his ear. “Ah, seems like there’s no talking dogs in this place, either.” He glanced at Iron Bull with black eyes. “Half-breed dragons, sure, and a curtain that divides reality in two, but if a dog talks then we have a dilemma.”

“You,” the Dragonborn snapped. She was talking to me. “You seem to have an idea of what is occurring. Explain, before I get tired standing here.”

“You will not speak to the Inquisitor like that,” Cassandra growled, stalking up beside me and holding her longsword upright. “Shall I dispatch them for you?”

“Well, it’s quite obvious that if we tried that again, we’d end up in the same place we did before,” I said wryly. “Besides, I’m more interested in how an Otherworlder _not_ from my world wound up here.”

“Ah, _now_ things are getting interesting,” Barbas announced, tail thumping the ground a few times.

“Alaran,” Solas said lowly, flanking me on the left side. “How do you know this?”

The Dragonborn and I locked gazes. “Because,” I said with purposeful slowness, “My world considered her world a video game.”

Skyggen, as I believed her name to be, cursed and rolled her head back to the sky. “I _knew_ it,” she growled, then grabbed at her cowl and hood and simultaneously pushed them from her face.

Black ears popped upright and a dark, feline nose wrinkled in derision. Skyggen was a Khajiit, with fur nearly as dark as her armor and three pale old scars dashing across the front of her visage. There were patterns on her face highlighted with gray, and a bit of white on her jawline and chin.

“Holy shit,” Bull said, summing up everyone’s thoughts (besides Cole’s) aloud.

“Says the dragon-man,” Skyggen sighed tiredly. “I suppose I am fortunate, Small One, that you come from a world where my own is nothing but a pleasurable pastime. At least you know who I am, and how odd it is that I am in this one.”

“Have you been to my world?” I questioned.

“No. But I’ve met those who originated from there.”

Solas and I shared a look. Then, back to Skyggen, I said, “Hallah Lynne.”

She showed mild surprise for a second before falling back into an indifferent mask. “Ah. A name that is scattered across the stars as infinitely as the stars themselves. She enjoys her games, just as all immortals do. But yes. Through her, I’ve met a few of those who wished to see Skyrim in all its grandeur.” An ear twitched, focusing on a sound too far away for me to hear. “I cannot blame them.”

“You smell like Hallah,” Barbas confirmed, stretching his snout out and sniffing my leg. “Lemons. It’s faint, but it’s there” He sniffed again. “Hey, hold on a minute…you’re from New York?”

I jerked away as if I had been bitten. “How the fuck did you know that?” I asked, silently chastising myself for hearing the little bit of my East Side accent slip in. It was as though Barbas had drawn it out of me. Not only had I thoroughly buried it in Thedas, but back on Earth as well.

“Kid, where do ya think I come from? I know the scent of Manhattan.”

I was too floored to speak. “Great,” Skyggen said dryly, “now you’ve gone and made this whole thing even _more_ complicated.”

“Sorry,” Barbas apologized, sounding like he didn’t mean it.

I rubbed my face, as I often did whenever I was frustrated or couldn’t think straight. In this case it was both. Definitely both. “This is…weird,” I muttered aggravatedly. “This is really weird. And confusing.” And I’m guessing Hallah wants us to figure it out ourselves.”

“Never guess what that woman wants, Small One,” Skyggen advised. She widely yawned, showcasing large and impressive set of pearly incisors. “It only gives me headaches. And I deal with the gods on a weekly basis.” Skyggen jerked a thumb to the conversational New Yorker dog. “Take this hairy lump for example. I got placed in charge of babysitting him while Clavicus Vile, his daedric master, decided to go on a “vacation.” Do you think I want to take care of Barbas? He smells like a chamber pot and eats all my food.”

“Shut up,” Barbas said. “You know you love my company.”

“Alright, alright,” I interceded before the two, er, _interesting_ characters could go at it, “do either of you remember what you were doing before falling into this world?”

Skyggen bared her fangs at Barbas one more time before answering me. “Yes. We came across some kind of tear in what seemed to be the fabric of our reality. Before Barbas or I could determine if it was a doing of the gods, he, myself, and my mount were pulled in.”

“It was all very disorienting,” Barbas put in. “Lots of spinning, lots of colors. Then all of a sudden we weren’t in Skyrim. Or Nirn, for that matter.”

I looked to Solas. “A rift in another world?” he posed inquisitively, rubbing his chin in thought. “I did not think it could be possible.”

Skyggen looked at him with molten yellow eyes. “Hm. If anybody would know, it’d be you. I smell the wear of time on your body, mer. You have never seen anomalies here?”

I laughed, trying not to act hasty or nervous. “He tends to sleep a lot,” I said, patting Solas on the arm. “So he’s missed out on quite a bit.”

“Huh. Sounds like a daedra to me,” Barbas grunted. Solas and I glanced at each other, both masking every emotion we needed to hide.

“Well, it seems as if your robbing days have come to an end,” I concluded, holding up my left hand. A little push and the spark of the Anchor came to life. “Because I think we’re the right ones that can help you.”

Skyggen’s pupils enlarged, turning her from a ferocious predator to a YouTube kitten. The sudden change was enough to make me smile a bit. Maybe the Dragonborn wasn’t so…scary…after all.

Then she turned her head over her shoulder and shouted with a voice that carried across the countryside, “ _Shadowmere!”_

“No,” Barbas, well, _barked,_ “leave that monstrosity to rot! Let ‘im starve!”

Skyggen made a _ch_ noise to silence the hound. “I really don’t like this,” Blackwall said. “Alaran, I really don’t like this.”

The Dragonborn regarded him, eyes back to slits. The warrior audibly gulped. “You don’t like my presence, hairy man?” she asked, accent rippling in her throat. “Do you think _I_ like being here? Away from Skyrim? Away from the eyes of every single aedra and daedra that rule over Nirn?”

A pause.

“Because _I do.”_

Oh. Well.

Unexpected.

There was a lot going on. That part was fucking obvious. But the cherry—the _absolute cherry—_ on the top was the hulking, monstrous horse that crested the gully the Dragonborn had come from. It seemed to be composed of moonless winter nights and the deepest pits of hell. Crimson orbs bore into my chest, too intelligent for any normal horse’s.

“Stay away from that unholy abomination,” Barbas warned me. “He bites. I watched him tear out a bandit’s intestines one time. And then _ate them.”_

Skyggen, instead of sticking up for her notorious mount, simply grunted in agreement. “Aye. Just stay away from his nuzzle. And don’t hold eye contact for too long.”

Solas made an uncertain, confused “ahhh” sound when the horse got close enough. “What in the Maker’s name…” Cassandra uttered softly.

“Everyone,” Skyggen said, draping her arm over her horse’s neck and comfortably leaning against him, “this is Shadowmere. He enjoys raw meat, honeycomb, and nights where the auroras are shining brightly.”

“Who doesn’t?” I said, mostly out of sheer intimidation. In the game, I had always thought Shadowmere was awesome. Who’d know that he was downright terrifying?

Shadowmere locked his eyes on me and narrowed them. My stomach churned. His coat _wasn’t_ completely black, I realized; underneath was a shade of deep, blood red.

“Huh,” Skyggen rumbled, nonchalantly scratching underneath Shadowmere’s chin, “he likes you.”

“He sure looks like it,” I said, not believing the words.

“So, uh, do any of you have something to eat?” Barbas asked us. “We’re starving.”

In a sort of dazed state, I nodded once and slowly turned to walk back to our mounts. “Sure thing.”

So yeah.

I hadn’t expected this to happen when I first woke up.

Another Otherworlder.

The Dragonborn.

And I thought _I_ was cool.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If one video game world exists, why don't others?
> 
> Yes, yes, I'm a shameless crossover writer. Tell me something I don't know. But it's the freaking Dragonborn??? So I think I should be okay. Skyggen is a...complicated character. I mean, what Dragonborn wouldn't be? In "Wait, What?" she was only in for one chapter so I didn't get to expand so much on her, but in this one I think I'll keep her in for maybe one or two more. Also, Barbas and Shadowmere are in Thedas as well. That'll make things a party. 
> 
> For those of you who haven't played Skyrim, I'm sorry. Things will get back to "normalish" in a bit.


	56. The Dragonborn Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al says goodbye and comes clean to Solas

“A message from the Inquisitor, Sister Leliana,” a scout said as he approached her. The spymaster looked up from her desk and took the small messaging container. She unscrewed the lid and poured the contents into her hand.

As Leliana unrolled it, she noticed that there were two pieces of parchment. The top one read:

_Leliana,  
Send the second parchment to wherever Brosca is. I know you know. You read our letters to one another. _

The shadow of a smile passed Leliana’s lips. She didn’t read Alaran’s letters.

Not _all_ of them.

Setting the first aside, Leliana regarded the next message that meant to go to the Hero of Ferelden.

_Brosca,  
Dude! What the FUCK?????? Here I was just minding my own business on our way back to Skyhold and guess who shows up?? THE DRAGONBORN. AND BARBAS. AND SHADOWMERE. They’re all here. In. Thedas. With me. Her name is Skyggen. She’s a Khajiit and she is  complicated. And I’m making the oh-so-wise decision to bring them back to Skyhold. Oh man oh man I don’t know what I’m doing. And Leliana since I know that you’re reading this, please don’t tell anybody that I don’t know what I’m doing. A lot of the time I only act like I do. _

Alaran’s handwriting got substantially smaller, as she was running out of parchment to write on. Leliana would have thought that she didn’t separate her subjects to conserve space, but all three advisers knew the headache that was Alaran’s writing structure. She could have the finest, largest piece of vellum and still write like this.

_They came through a rift. A RIFT. It gives me major cause for concern. Oh, and if you’ve ever wondered what it felt like to be hit with Unrelenting Force let me just tell you that it sucks ass. Also, Barbas is from New York. It’s confusing. This is all so confusing. I wish you were here so we could figure it out together. And Hallah too. Sometimes she really grinds my gears but she knows that. On another note tell Sigrun that I’ll take it lukewarm because that way everybody is uncomfortable. And on another other note I rode a dragon so ha ha I mean I know you defeated the Blight itself by killing the Archdemon but I think what I did was way more awesome._

_Cool Cool Cool Cool,  
Alaran _

Leliana sighed and stood to make her way to the most well-rested raven in the rookery. It was bad enough that the Inquisitor sanctioned the presence of a High Dragon in the Frostbacks without consultation, so to add this? Maker save her. She didn’t get paid enough.

-

It was weird, waking up in the wee hours of the morning only to see that you weren’t the first one up.

Skyggen was sitting near the low campfire. Her cowl had been pushed down and cloak removed. Ears twitched as they heard my approach. “You are up far too early, Small One,” she purred quietly. Beside her, a sleeping Barbas twitched his toes as he dreamt.

“I don’t really sleep in,” I said. Though my voice was soft-spoken, it sounded loud in the surrounding silence. “You?”

“I don’t need sleep like most.” I sat down by Skyggen, opening my small toiletries pack. The Dragonborn was at least six feet tall, so I felt relatively small compared to her. I wished I were taller. Then people didn’t have to look down at me whenever I told them off.

“Why not?”

She gave me a sidelong glance. “Having the soul of a dragon does tricky things to one’s body. That, and my dealings with the aedra, daedra, and the unnatural have left me…different.”

We would get back to Skyhold by nightfall, but there was little talk outside the mystery of how Skyggen and her companions had ended up here. A rift that connected to other dimensions was…intriguing at best, and daunting at worst. If Skyggen, _The Dragonborn,_ could get through, who else could? But the rift had closed behind them, fortunately, posing the potential assumption that it doesn’t remain open indefinitely.

I stilled as another question entered my thoughts. “How old are you, Skyggen?”

A huff. “About ninety, I believe. I do age, just more slowly.”

“That’s how you got to be in charge of so many orders, isn’t it? You’ve just been around long enough to get involved in them all.”

Skyggen chuckled, but it was unenthusiastic. “Mostly. I never intended to be a leader of anything. But apparently people think I want to be in charge.”

“And do you?”

She paused for a moment. Had anyone ever asked her questions like these, before? “It has its benefits, I suppose. If I stay in a setting long enough, I start to develop familial feelings for the people I’m around. Eventually, though, I appoint someone new and be on my way again.”

“That sounds a little lonely.”

“Ah, it’s not so bad. I have Shadowmere, who’s been in my life for the last forty.” We both glanced over at the steed, who was standing away from the other mounts for good reason. He, too, was sleeping as he stood. “As well as a few select, immortal friends.”

“Vampires?”

“A couple of mages, also. I suppose Hallah has been involved often enough I could count her as a friend.” Skyggen reached down and gently stroked Barbas’ pelt. “And let’s not forget this one, too. The kids loved him.”

“Kids?” I repeated.

“Yes. I used to have a boy and a girl. But…they both grew up, and both passed into Sovngarde before their thirtieth year. My boy, Alesan, died at sea. And my girl, Sofie, died in childbirth with the baby. I had trained them to protect themselves in all fields, yet I couldn’t save them from fate.” Skyggen didn’t speak with sorrow, but her ears were slightly drooped. “I couldn’t deal with that pain again, so I never took on more children. But I’ve been an active sponsor of several orphanages. I keep an eye on them, just like all the other organizations I’ve handled at some point or another.”

“You wear Nightingale Armor. Are you with the Thieves Guild right now?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t committed a crime for them in over twenty years. I moved on after Vex retired from the Guildmaster position. But I kept the armor. Nocturnal has always been the Daedric Prince to replenish my luck and push me with the moving of the universe instead of against it. And while I have also served other princes, she has always been there, guiding me with a steady hand. So I remain a Nightingale until my luck runs out.”

“And then what?”

“The day my luck runs out is the day I die.”

“What if your luck never runs out?”

Skyggen looked at me again, expression saying that she had asked herself the same thing a thousand times. “Immortality is a frightening thing, Small One. Fear of dying is engrained into our composition. But fear of a never-ending, purposeless life? Now that’s something that can drive men and women to the deepest reaches of insanity. But I’ve done enough for the gods; if they don’t give me death, then I’ll give them theirs.”

I paused in braiding my hair. “You’ll really do that? Kill your gods?”

Staring into the fire, Skyggen replied, “Yes. They realize I have the power to end them.”

“So they’re going to give you yours at some point.”

“Yes. They must.” She glanced at Solas’ tent. “That mer—he is immortal, no?”

“He is,” I slowly responded. “But his…identity is a secret. Cole and I are the only others who know.”

“Ah. I see. And you two are together?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Skyggen snorted. “Do you need an Amulet of Mara?”

I chuckled and tied my hair. The fangirl effect had worn off, by now, leaving an immense amount of respect for Skyggen. Not only was she a warrior, but also a dedicated scholar, adventurer, and leader. “Since we’re on the subject of gods, could you tell me who are your favorite and least favorite? I mean, most of the princes are questionable, but still.”

“Hm. Well, aside from Nocturnal, I could count Azura and Meridia as the most likeable. They’ve only wanted my assistance for good. Clavicus Vile likes me because I never take deals from him. He’d get bored if I did. I _used_ to like Hermaeus Mora—and consistently did his bidding for twenty years—until I came across another Dragonborn who worshipped him.”

“Miraak,” I uttered, remembering the DLC.

Instead of being surprised at my knowledge, Skyggen simply nodded. “Yes. I knew what a lifelong arrangement with him would entail. Servitude, and then a twisted death that would leave me wallowing in the murky waters of the Apocrypha.”

“Was he happy about you leaving?”

“No. He tried to kill me.”

We both shared a couple of snickers. “Sanguine always guarantees a lavish time, but he tries to entrap mortals in those experiences forever until they forget themselves. The same with Sheogorath. And the rest? I have no love for.”

“And do you worship the Divines? I know you’re Khajiit, but…”

“But I have the blood of the Nords flowing through my veins. So, yes. I worship Akatosh, primarily, as he gave me this soul and this body. I also pay tribute to Arkay. I do not fear death, but I don’t disrespect it. I look to Talos when I’m faced when a difficult decision, and Mara when I need to show mercy.” Skyggen looked up at the sky, which was beginning to lighten. “And you, Small One? Do you worship?”

“Ah, no. Not really. I _hope_ for a higher power, but…I’ve placed my faith in other things. I’m unsure if the metaphysical and the Universe are separate or interchangeable or even the same thing. I don’t know. I just have too many questions and too few answers. My god on Earth would at least _talk_ to people—even if it was never me. But the Maker here…he is absent. Why would a god leave if he wants His children to be better? Shouldn’t He stay to ensure that they’re guided? I don’t know. A lot of things are fucked up here.”

“Aren’t they everywhere?” Skyggen posed. I gave a weary nod. Surprisingly, a hand patted my shoulder. “You worry, don’t you? That you will wind up in this afterlife and realize it’s not where you want to be.”

“If you want to put it that way, yeah. But I try not to think about it too much. I have enough going on in this plane of existence to spend my energy on.”

“A good mindset, Small One.”

Barbas suddenly made a noise and pushed himself up on his haunches. He yawned widely, scratched behind his ear, and said, “It’s too early for me to be up.”

“So, Barbas, why don’t you tell us how you came from Alaran’s world?” Skyggen asked before I could jump to it. “You’ve managed to worm your way out of the subject so far, but there’s no escaping now.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Like, what the hell?”

“Alright, alright, no need for profanity,” Barbas muttered. He placed his paws on Skyggen’s lap. She growled.

“No.”

He paid her no mind and continued to clamber on the Dragonborn’s lap. She looked pissed, but made no move to push the wolfhound off. Instead, she casually placed her arms around Barbas. “Okay, kid, here’s how it all went down. There I was, a normal dog living on the streets of Brooklyn, having the time of my life. When— _bam!_ Hit by a moving truck. I thought that was the end of me. And, technically, it was.”

Well. That was anticlimactic. “Did Hallah come along?” I posed.

“You betcha. She and Clavicus Vile had a bet going on, he won, so she had to offer him something that he’d like. And that was me.”

“So she gave you a conscious?”

“Eh, something like that. Ol’ Lynne just can’t _create_ a powerful thing like self-awareness; she’s not that limitless. But she _can_ ignite things and give them room for growth. Not to mention that Clavicus Vile had a hand in the process. But yeah. There’s nothing really super about it.”

“Wait, go back a bit,” I said, “Hallah lost to Clavicus Vile? I thought she saw every single outcome imaginable.”

“Oh, she does, sweetheart. I figured she lost so she could give me to my master. Who, in turn, gave me to Skyggen…who, in turn, ran into you.”

I huffed. “Figures. You think she had our paths cross on purpose?”

Skyggen answered. “Who can say? I wouldn’t put it past the woman, but those who have the Universe wrapped more tightly around them tend to…draw to each other.”

“True enough.” The first light of morning crawled over the low, black horizon. “I had better wake the others.”

“Except for that one,” Skyggen pointed. I looked to my right and saw Cole sitting there, minding his own business.

I let out a tight-lipped sigh. “Cole, you need to _tell_ me when you’re around. I hate leaving you out of the conversation.”

“You were talking, questions tingling on your tongue. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“He is a spirit, yes?” inquired Skyggen. “From the divide that separates this world in two?”

“Yes,” I replied, glancing back at Cole. “Though I think he’s becoming much more than that.”

“How can I be more than myself?”

“In lots of ways,” the Dragonborn said, smile vulpine yet sincere all at once.  Cole tilted his head at her, signaling that a personal question was coming.

“Souls sing inside you, whispering knowledge and wearing down walls so when you die they can be free.”

Skyggen wasn’t fazed by Cole’s strangeness. “Aye. I consume the souls of dragons who tried to best me. Through them, I’m able to retain memories and languages. But when I return to Sovngarde, they will be released. Not back into Mundus, thankfully, but free nonetheless.”

Cole turned his gaze eastward, listening to something. I involuntarily tensed, thinking that he might have heard enemies approaching.

But the warning never came. “A way out,” he breathed, voice a soft sigh in the chilly morning air. “There’s a way out for them.”

-

“You have dragon’s blood in you,” Skyggen said to Bull, yellow eyes languidly roving over him. “This is true, no?”

Bull glanced at the Khajiit, smirking. He and his steed were the only ones foolhardy enough to ride next to Shadowmere. “That’s what they say. I got some Reaver abilities like Boss, but not as—”

“No. You _have_ dragon’s blood. It roars within you, lying dormant. Descended. I can smell it.”

I looked Skyggen’s way, an eyebrow raised. Bull grunted as he, too, processed what Skyggen said. “Either way,” the Qunari eventually drawled, “wanna fuck?”

Cassandra openly groaned and Blackwall laughed. All of us were in close enough proximity of one another that we heard the conversation.

Skyggen purred a laugh. _Purred._ “I am not sure if you could handle me.”

It was like watching a car crash with my ears. I didn’t want to listen but couldn’t stop myself.

“Oh, believe me,” Bull rumbled back, “I think I’d have a fair shot.”

“This is gross,” Barbas stated from the ground, voicing our thoughts aloud. “Can we pick up the pace, please? I don’t want to be here long enough so they can do the Shake Down.”

Trying not to feel the atmosphere of Bull and Skyggen’s sexual tension, I concisely said to Solas, “Do you feel the Veil shifting, yet?”

“No, not yet,” Solas replied, eyes sticking to the horizon. Under his breath he muttered, “Unfortunately.” He looked at the spirit boy riding beside him. “Cole? Do you know how close we are?”

“Close enough to hear the whispers, but not close enough to hear the roars.”

Solas and I silently waited for Cole to piece things together himself. He was making progress, he really was, but it required patience. “Oh,” he eventually murmured, realizing that we wanted a more precise answer. “We should reach the place by early evening.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Cole.”

Our time with the Dragonborn would be short-lived. According to Cole, he could sense the right frequency in the Veil that would be perfect for opening a rift and _hopefully_ getting it to connect with the other world. If it proved to be successful, not only would it be confirmed that the power of rifts were strong enough to reach different planets and dimensions, but we could voluntarily _open_ one on this side. I didn’t want to think about it too much until after Skyggen, Barbas, and Shadowmere were safely returned to their home, but would this mean I could somehow open a rift into my world? Earth? Or others?

I wished Dorian were here. He, Solas, and I could probably put our heads together to make bigger strides in the new discovery. Because though I was downplaying it to keep my companions calm, this revelation was…

Monumental.

My eyes slid to Solas. His posture was reserved and formal, as usual, but I knew he was thinking about the same things on my own mind. I really just wanted to hold his hand right now.

Cassandra sidled next to me. The Seeker had to tilt her head up in my direction because of the differing sizes of our mounts. “Inquisitor,” she said lowly, “something troubles me.”

“Yes?”

She chewed on her thoughts for a few moments before saying them aloud. “The area that will be…suitable…for this exchange to take place has to be near Skyhold.”

I hummed. “I think so. It makes sense, if you think about it. There are multiple reports from our mages about the abnormal fluctuations of the Veil surrounding Skyhold.” But I already knew where Cassandra was going with this. It had been a concern of mine since the moment Cole spoke. “When we return, I’m going to have Solas oversee the study on if we can reinstitute the Veil’s stabilization in abnormal areas. And if we can, then just how.” I gave Cassandra a small smile. “This is all very cool for me, but I don’t want somebody pouring through our reality and knocking on our doorstep. _That_ wouldn’t be cool.”

She seemed somewhat assured. “How are you feeling? With all…this…happening, your recent feats have been put aside.”

I shrugged. “I haven’t had a hankering for human flesh, yet, that’s good. But the second scales show up on my skin, I’ll let you know.”

Cassandra caught my teasing tone and snorted. “I have a feeling that you’d only think growing scales was a… _cool…_ thing.”

That made me flash a grin. Cassandra only got flustered. “Did I use that word correctly? Or are you simply being nice?”

“You used it perfectly,” I said. “It just made me happy.”

Pentaghast begrudgingly smiled.

-

The area was about a mile from the path that led to Skyhold. It was a small grove, but the focal point of the Veil’s strangeness was centered around a single, jutting rock that almost looked like a ramp. I could feel the air buzzing with a speed I was unfamiliar with. The Anchor began throbbing and my hair stood on end. “Have you seen anything like this, before?” I quietly asked Solas as we tied our harts to the same tree. “Because I sure haven’t.”

“No. But, then again, I have not been present for nearly the entire existence of the Veil. I feel like it has a great deal to do with the circumstance we’re in.”

“Agreed.” I gave my mount a pat on the neck and started walking forward. Solas, however, put a hand on my arm to stop me. I turned halfway to look at him. “Yeah?”

He took a step closer and darted his eyes to the rest of the group. They were all examining the rock. Cole actually sat upon it, hearing something we couldn’t.

Wait.

Bull and Skyggen were missing.

…I wasn’t going to think about it.

“You knew who this…Dragonborn was. From a video game?” Solas pronounced the word “video” slowly. Of course, I had told him about what I did in my pastime, playing games included. Why wouldn’t I? They were fun and an interesting concept to him. And besides, there wasn’t a whole lot to do in the Fade when we were both trapped there.

I gave a single nod. A weight was forming in my stomach.

The same thing seemed to be happening to Solas. “When Wisdom introduced you to me, you were…frightened. As if you knew something about me. At first, I thought you were aware of my part in creating the Veil. But before you returned to the Waking World, you warned me to not act rashly. It was vague and understandable, considering you knew how much the world had changed, but…”

I had turned my gaze to the woods beyond. Slanted shadows stretched across the ground as the sun sunk lower in the sky. “This world was once a game to yours as well, wasn’t it? That is how you knew so much. About me, about Thedas, and about the threat we face.”

When I looked back to Solas, my face bore a saddened expression. I wasn’t shocked that he had figured it out; given the situation, I knew it was only a matter of time. So I had braced myself, built up a wall to buffet the emotions that may have overtaken me.

“I’ll tell you everything, Solas, when we resolve the matter at hand. I promise.” My voice didn’t sound shaky or scared. It was resolute. The voice of somebody in control.

He gave a gracious nod, though his own mask had been donned. I tentatively reached up and touched Solas’ cheek, hoping that he wouldn’t move away from it. There was a small breath of relief when I found that Solas let me, and even closed his eyes for a moment as he leaned into my palm. “Oh, Alaran,” he breathed, the hint of a sad chuckle in his tone. “You and I are...”

“Quite the pair,” I finished. “I know. I love you.”

A second passed.

I blinked. Solas stared.

My veneer cracked and crumbled. “Weeee woooo,” I blurted, taking my hand from Solas’ face. With ears furiously, painfully hot, I started backtracking. Solas stood there, looking bemused as hell. Was that a good thing? Or a very bad thing?

I spun on my heels and screamed, “SKYGGEN! BULL! STOP FUCKING AND GET BACK HERE!”

“Alaran?” Blackwall asked as I sparked energy into the Anchor. There was that playful tone of his going on. “I didn’t know you got sunburned—”

I attacked him, but he anticipated it and put me in a headlock. I was so flustered and off-kilter that I didn’t see it coming. “The mighty Inquisitor!” Blackwall crowed as he spun me around so I couldn’t get my footing. “Felled by a mere mortal man!”

“You—smell—like— _cow shit!”_ I howled. Blackwall heartily laughed and let me go. I careened and braced myself on the rock. I violently straightened, pressed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, and turtle-frowned. Before I could glare at the beardy man and come back with a biting reply, Iron Bull and Skyggen sauntered through the trees, looking all sorts of satisfied.

“Ugh,” Cassandra accurately put. Bull rather obviously adjusted himself while Skyggen smoothed the ruffled fur on her head.

“Did you consume his soul, too?” Barbas sardonically questioned as they neared.

“No,” Skyggen replied, “but I consumed something else just as good.”

I busted out laughing. Solas walked up beside me and put a hand on the small of my back. While everybody else was involved in the discord, I fell silent and angled my head up to him. A smile was still present on my lips. I didn’t really care if Solas said he loved me or not. We hadn’t been exactly “courting,” and even that had only been for a few months. But he’d tell me when he—

Solas leaned down to put his mouth near my ear. “And I love you.”

I grinned. Solas wasn’t one for public displays of affection, so I restrained myself from doing anything that’d make him uncomfortable. I simply beamed, did a little hip-shimmy, and set my focus straight.

“Alright, everyone,” I called, gathering everyone’s attention. “Let’s get this show on the road.”  
-

The rift, electric and enigmatic, opened to another world. I had to keep the Anchor connected to it so it’d stay stable. Already I was feeling light-headed and weak.

Solas, of course, helped by casting a reinforcement spell that’d assist my endeavors. Like a mini, alternate version of what the mages used to close the Breach in Haven. Skyggen added her own magic to the mix. It danced on my skin, foreign and fierce. Because of her efforts, the frequency between Thedas and Skyrim coincided.

It was an amazing sight.

Just on the other side of reality was a different _world._ I regarded a forest filled with the silhouettes of quaking aspens, leaves shimmering with the light from the auroras dazzling Skyrim’s night sky. There were bold reds and golds, shaded with teal and green colors. They trekked between the stars, weaving paths and stories.

I was awed.

“Maker’s balls,” Blackwall uttered.

The rock the rift hung over indeed served as a ramp. Shadowmere trotted through first, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he was crossing through dimensions. I got a stinging tail-swish on the cheek from him. I took it as a sign of affection.

“See ya, sweetheart,” Barbas said to me. “It was nice getting to talk with someone about home.”

“Yeah, it was,” I smirked. Then I used my free hand to pat him on the head. He licked my palm once before turning and walking up the rock. After a small leap, the hound joined the horse on the other side.

Skyggen started walking forward, keeping her magic active as she did. We determined that once she stepped through, the rift would quickly lose its frequency. “Farewell, Little One,” she said, using her left, unused hand to clasp the back of my neck and draw my forehead to hers. Soft, dark fur tickled my skin. “You will do great things. I hope we will meet again.”

“As do I,” I said. Skyggen straightened, nodded to Solas, Cassandra, and Blackwall, and winked at Bull. Then, with the flourish of her cloak, strode up the stone. She paused for a moment before stepping through.

A second after I felt the full weight of the Veil upon me. I cried out, mostly in surprise, and immediately broke the connection. The backlash was severe enough to send me toppling to the ground.

I stared up at the golden evening sky. The abnormal frequency was no longer present; it seemed that such a feat balanced the equilibrium. “Are you alright?” Solas inquired, crouching down beside me.

“Yeah,” I wheezed. “I’m just glad I didn’t have my greatsword strapped on.”

“If anybody wants to know, I just had some of the greatest sex of my life,” Iron Bull declared. I rolled my eyes.

Cassandra hauled me to my feet. “That was…” she started. The Seeker looked deeply troubled. I didn’t blame her. Cassandra’s world was still a little smaller than most. “That was something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to describe.”

“Girl, I feel ya,” I said. “I’m just sad Varric didn’t get to meet them. And Hawke. And Merrill. Everybody, really. That would have been a grand ol’ time.”

“It would have been a disaster.”

I laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

It was dark by the time we got on our mounts and found the road to Skyhold again. Solas and I led the way because we had the best eyesight. While the others enthusiastically spoke about the ordeal that just happened—and they even included Cole—Solas and I were riding far enough ahead that we wouldn’t get eavesdropped on.

“So,” I said lowly, “I’m guessing I owe you that explanation, now.”

“You guess correctly.”

I took a steadying breath. “Okay. Yes. This world…was supposed to only be a video game. The franchise is simply dubbed _Dragon Age._  I was just staring the third installment when I appeared in Kirkwall. It was supposed to cover the events of Inquisition. So, in other words, what’s currently happening. The other two prior followed the Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Kirkwall. I didn’t play _Inquisition_ until a while after its release, so I had a grasp of how everything began and how everything ended. And it ends with you being revealed to be the owner of the Orb, and indirectly confirmed that you were indeed the great Fen’Harel. I’m sure that by now it _has_ been confirmed.

“But…I knew Corypheus had escaped Vimmark. I knew it would be you to give it to him. I knew what would happen in Kirkwall, and I knew that a war would break out between templars and mages. And I have a faint idea that we’ll be successful. I liked the franchise a lot, but I wasn’t as obsessed with it as I should have been. There were several books that had in-depth information about this world and what had occurred in the past. I wish I could have read them beforehand…Then again, that’d just be more stuff I know. More weight I’d have to carry.” The whole time I was looking ahead, but now I turned my gaze to Solas. He was listening to me with a neutral expression. “Your Orb, Solas. It…I’m pretty sure that it doesn’t make it past the final battle. I’m sorry.”

There. Now he knew the truth. And unless I had forgotten something, I was almost certain there wasn’t anything else hidden from Solas.

Even if it wasn’t good truth.

“Ah,” Solas sighed. He looked down at his hands. “That is…disheartening news. Hope for its survival slimmed when you told me of its corruption. And yet…”

“I can’t be for certain,” I went on. “And there might also be a way to restore it. Now that you know, we can also start thinking of ways—”

Solas kindly looked at me. “You have too much on your plate to be concerned about the Orb. It will be fine. If that is its fate, then so be it. Perhaps…perhaps it is time that such a power be laid to rest.”

His gaze made me want to be as close to him as possible. In every way.

“There’s…another thing,” I said, words slow to form in my mouth. With a sigh, I tilted my head up to the smattering of stars on an inky backdrop. “When I was captured and taken to the Gallows, I was raped by a templar.” I swallowed the rock in my throat. I didn’t feel fear; I just became extremely tired. “It lasted probably about thirty seconds before I bit out his tongue when he shoved it in my mouth. But it felt like it would never have an end. It…took me a long while to find the missing piece that’d make me feel whole again.

“I know you would never judge me for what happened. And I know that you’ll do everything possible to help me feel comfortable and loved. But…I just wasn’t ready to tell you until now.” A meek chuckle hummed in my throat. “After all that has happened in these past couple of days, how shocking could it be? I mean, what…”

Solas pulled his hart to a stop. I paused, watching with furrowed brows as he dismounted. “What’s going on?” Cassandra called from behind us. She was, however, ignored.

He wordlessly reached up and gripped my waist. Moonlight reflected in his eyes. I let go of the reins and slipped my boots from the stirrups. As Solas pulled me from the saddle, I put my hands on his shoulders and wrapped my legs around him. A smile broke out across my lips as I gazed down at Solas. His arms kept me firmly in place.

Everybody was watching, but neither of us cared. I cupped Solas’ sharp jaw with one hand while the other placed itself on the nape of his neck.

I loved him.

I loved him so much.

Solas warmly smiled and kissed me.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it took a while for me to update! I've been re-editing this fic from the beginning (and cringing) between my classes. But I hope at least some of you enjoyed these two crack-fic chapters. I certainly did. 
> 
> Also, Al and Solas!!! In love!!!


	57. Attending to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al sets a precedence

I peered at the approaching Ivena over the rims of my spectacles. I imagined I looked like quite the sight; papers were stacked sky-high on my desk, trapping me behind it like some beast. My hair was unbraided and extremely messy, and I wore solely a tunic and underwear. I had been like this for most of the evening. The morning was consumed by meetings with the advisers—during it I was reminded of Admiral Isabela’s and Hana Amell’s arrival within two days. _That_ was going to be interesting. And the afternoon was a whirlwind of doing a thousand things throughout Skyhold. After eating a quick dinner with Varric, Kasi, Hawke, Merrill, and Bubba, I hustled back to my chambers to get what work I could done.

Ivena meekly smiled and faintly bowed. “Inquisitor. It is good to have you back,” she spoke softly.

I paused in my writing and nodded my head to her. “It’s good to be back. And it’s good to see you. I wanted to catch you at breakfast, but I ended up having it in the War Room. How have things been?”

The elf’s taught expression didn’t bode well. The fact that Ivena was here at this hour was concerning. She stepped forward until she was only a few inches away from my desk. In the early days of the Inquisition, Ivena always had a hard time meeting my eyes whenever she spoke to me. She also stumbled over her words, voice often hitching with nervousness.

Now, though, her hazel eyes directly met mine. “Something troubling has been happening while you were away.” Ivena’s voice was unwavering and strong.

My brows furrowed. Though the advisers told me less-than-savory information during the meetings, there was nothing _in Skyhold_ that was disturbing. But I deeply trusted Ivena. She was, technically, still a working servant. That meant she heard things not even Leliana’s people picked up on.

“What is it?” I questioned, setting my quill aside and giving full attention to her.

Ivena took a deep breath. “Recently, a noble family visited Skyhold…”

-

Josephine’s black, unbound hair draped over her shoulders as she shuffled down the hall to the War Room. At least she had the common sense to throw a house coat over her nightgown. “Maker’s breath,” Cullen yawned as he lumbered beside the ambassador. “Does anybody know what Alaran wants?”

“Nothing good,” Leliana said from Josephine’s other side. The spymaster’s nightwear was practical; trousers and a loose tunic. As if she would be ready to leap out of her bed and attack at any moment.

They had all been called to meet Alaran in the War Room for an emergency meeting. Technically there had never _been_ an emergency meeting, so Josephine couldn’t compare it to any others.

When they entered the chambers, they immediately saw Alaran standing on the far end of the war table. Bubba was laying down at her side, pretending to be asleep. Josephine automatically swallowed. There were few times when she had seen the Inquisitor angry, and only once had she seen her furious.

So, when Josephine realized that Alaran was looking _furiously_ at her, fear immediately soured her stomach.

Just what had happened?

Alaran waited for them to gather around the war table, violet eyes seamlessly gliding over each of them like a serpent. Her white hair was unkempt and disheveled, spectacles balanced precariously on the edge of her nose, and the scar on her throat shifted in the low candlelight.

When Alaran spoke, her voice was clipped, clear, and concise.

Josephine detested that tone. It meant a tidal wave was about to crash down on them at any second. And all she could do was stand there in fear. “I have received…disconcerting…news from Ivena fifteen minutes ago.”

Ivena…? Ah, Alaran’s servant. “Nearly the whole time I was away from Skyhold, the number of sexual assault among the serving class went from nonexistent to rampant in a matter of days.”

Cullen was the first to defend himself. “Any reports were dealt with, Inquisitor, and soldiers were properly—”

“I wasn’t finished.” Alaran cut like a dagger. Cullen’s jaw audibly snapped shut. “Three days after my departure, a noble family by the name of Haumbridge came here to visit and pledge their support to the Inquisition.”

The mention of the name made Josephine feel sick. “Their son, William, immediately took an interest in the servants—specifically elven servants. He raped a total of seven women before one came forward to complain.” Alaran looked to Josephine, who was remembering the conversation with a nondescript servant as if it had happened only a minute ago. “Her claims were shuffled to another department—” she shifted to Cullen, who averted his gaze— “and then another.” Alaran finished with Leliana, who was still brave enough to maintain eye contact. “Despite asking for help with all three heads of the Inquisition, nothing was resolved. And because of the family’s status and support, their son’s actions were primarily dismissed. Even _after_ the Haumbridge family left, their son was _allowed_ to stay to be a liaison with other noble families and learn the trades of the Inquisition.”

Josephine pictured William Haumbridge clearly in her mind. He was a charming young man with a great respect for women and a tempered personality. He was intuitive and tactful, and he…

And he used those traits as a perfect disguise.

Alaran’s expression was severe. Murderous. “Two more women came forward. Two more women were quickly dismissed. Ivena counted that this man _alone_ has raped and sexually assaulted more than a dozen servants. And those are only the ones who confessed to her what happened. There are more, most likely, but believe that their claims would be ignored almost entirely. This isn’t an untrue belief.”

The Inquisitor took a deep breath, but it didn’t seem to calm her. “So. Explain to me just _why_ this hadn’t been dealt with immediately. And explain _why_ I had to hear it from Ivena, and not the three most informed people in Skyhold.”

Leliana spoke first. “The best I could do on such a short notice was create a problem in Teyrn Haumbridge’s hold so he and his family would have to leave. I hoped that William would be forced to go with him, but the son was adamant about staying here. I was in the midst of getting him out of Skyhold when you received word.”

“What? So he could simply walk free and rape other women? _Not_ good enough.” Alaran waited for Josephine to give an explanation.

Though her knees started trembling, Josephine didn’t stutter as she spoke. “The Haumbridge family is a rapidly rising teyrn in Ferelden. It would greatly benefit the Inquisition’s influence if we allied ourselves with them. What their son is doing is unfortunate, but sometimes…sometimes it is what our organization must deal with. I would suggest politely informing William that his services are no longer needed—”

 _“Sometimes it is what our organization must deal with?”_ Alaran repeated. Josephine pursed her lips and felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Tell me, Ambassador Montilyet, have you ever been raped? Have you ever had somebody take something away so violently you’re not sure if you could ever be whole again? No?” Alaran tilted her head to Cullen. “And you, Commander Rutherford? Do you agree with this?”

Cullen didn’t answer for several moments. Anything he could say would be turned against him. Because there was nothing right they could say. All of them had failed. Failed disastrously.

Eventually, he simply muttered, “No. I don’t.”

Alaran pointed a single finger against the wood of the table hard enough to turn the first digit white. “We _cannot_ be the organization that turns a blind eye to those who lay our foundations. We _cannot_ simply submit to the notion that rape and assault is just _a thing that happens.”_ Her tongue was steel, sharp and stinging. “That is a quick, _quick_ way to lead to the corruption of our cause. Because when the foundation cracks and weakens, everything comes crashing. Down.

“We. Are. The Inquisition. We are changing this world each and every day, and what we do will forever shape the future. Nobody will remember, nobody will _care,_ if elves are raped by a nobleman’s son—unless we change that mindset.” Alaran’s face darkened. “This is not something we should treat _lightly_ or _mercifully._ This is a crime that deserves a just, ruthless punishment.

Alaran drew herself to full height. Her tunic shifted, revealing the dark underwear fitted on her hips. She had come down here wearing no pants; in any other circumstance Josephine would have balked. But in this moment, there was nothing amusing about it. “It is not difficult to see that I am deeply disappointed in all of you.” The words were like an arrow to Josephine’s chest. It was all she could do to bite back tears of frustration. “What has happened here is completely unacceptable. I think I’ve made that clear.” Alaran’s teeth nearly gritted together. “And I could go on until morning about how _furious_ I am. But I want to talk about what I intend to do with William Haumbridge.” The look on Alaran’s face made her intent apparent.

It wouldn’t seem possible that the room could get any tenser. But it did. “Inquisitor Lavellan,” Josephine put as delicately as possible, “I would advise against acting rashly. What we do may set a precedent that—”

 _“Good_. A precedent is exactly what I want to set. Ambassador Montilyet, I don’t _care_ that this bastard has a noble bloodline. He has gotten away with what he’s done directly because of that. I wouldn’t even care if he came from the slums. What I care about is that a rapist is dealt with and dealt in the way he deserves. If the Inquisition doesn’t act, who will?”

There was no answer, because there was nobody else.

“You have our full support, Inquisitor,” Leliana stated. It was all any of them could say.

“Good.” There was a short silence that made Josephine want to crawl under a hole and hide for a week. When Alaran spoke again, her voice was ever-so-soft, and deadlier than it had been so far. “If something like this _ever_ happens again…”

Nobody dared to even breathe.

Alaran’s violet eyes were barely contained lightning. “Well, it won’t.” Her hand balled into a fist against the table. “Judgement will commence three hours past dawn. Now, send soldiers to apprehend that criminal before I do it myself. _Immediately.”_

_-_

The trial was short. Alaran sat in the Inquisition’s throne as if she was meant for no other place. And she wasn’t. Alaran _was_ the Inquisitor, the Herald, and the woman who was shaking Thedas with each sentence she spoke and each command she gave.

Josephine stood beside Leliana as judgement commenced. William Haumbridge had a frightened look in his eyes, like he sincerely didn’t know what he had done wrong.

“I wish I could give you a punishment that would make you suffer as much as the women you’ve assaulted,” Alaran said to him, her clear voice ringing throughout the tense and crowded hall. Her face was a mask so perfectly gilded not even the finest craftsman in Orlais could imitate its likeness. She was dressed in sharp, dark colors that contrasted against her ivory skin. The same sword Alaran had thrust into the sky when she was declared Inquisitor was strapped to her hip. “But I am not a butcher. Neither will I show you mercy. Only justice.”

When Josephine glanced to Leliana, she saw that the spymaster wasn’t looking at Inquisitor Lavellan. Her eyes were surveying the crowded hall. Josephine joined her, painfully aware of the numerous amounts of servants. Elven servants. Maker, she had forgotten just how _many_ there were. They occupied nearly half the hall, expressions solemn and intense.

“William Haumbridge, I sentence you to death.”

Instead of snapping her head back to Alaran, Josephine kept her eyes trained on the servants. As the hall buzzed with hundreds of voices, the servants’ looks drastically changed. They breathed sighs of relief, stifled outright exclamations of joy, brushed off triumphant smiles.

“You bitch! You knife-eared bitch!” the nobleman’s son suddenly snarled, façade shattering upon the verdict. Audible gasps rippled through the crowd, and several people had to be restrained from attacking Haumbridge. That was their _Inquisitor_ he was berating. Josephine looked again and didn’t see a man, but an animal. She instantly recoiled and took a step back.

William Haumbridge cried out as soldiers dragged him back to his feet. Josephine redirected her attention and watched as Alaran fluidly stood. One hand rested on the hilt of the sword. Despite the noise levels, the hall seamlessly parted for the criminal. He was taken out into the courtyard and onto the platform where rare executions were performed. The last person who had been beheaded was Erimond, whose trial was shorter than Haumbridge’s.

Josephine forced herself to watch Alaran decapitate him. A thick waterfall of blood poured from the stump as Haumbridge’s head wetly rolled onto the wooden platform. Josephine bit back a wave of nausea. There was nothing but grim resolution on Alaran’s face. Flecks of blood smattered across her angular jawline, and the sunlight made her spectacles look opaque.

The people cheered for their Inquisitor. Their faith was unwavering, loyalty stronger than ever.

Alaran was absolutely, undeniably dangerous. She knew that, Josephine knew that, Thedas knew that. She was going to change the world, even if she had to tear the current one asunder. Alaran was smart enough to find a way to rebuild without prior destruction…but she wouldn’t shy away from the option if there was no other way to get what she wanted.

And what terrified Josephine the most was her own faith in Alaran. Faith meant support, and support meant standing by the Inquisitor’s side, no matter what came. Because if Alaran’s goals ever did get dark, it was up to the people closest to her to stop them from happening.

She glanced at Leliana and Cullen. The three of them exchanged an unspoken agreement.

Because if they ever turned on Alaran, she would do everything in her power to make sure they failed. And there was a high possibility that she would still come out triumphant.

Josephine found that Alaran was looking at her advisors. At _her,_ specifically. A small nod was directed her way. Josephine dipped her own head in reply.

But above all else, Josephine _trusted_ Alaran Lavellan. And Alaran trusted her.

That reminder made things seem less daunting.

-

“How was the Storm Coast?” I asked Alistair as we strolled through the gardens. The Grey Warden had returned with a contingent after clearing up an infestation of darkspawn. It saved Inquisition soldiers from getting infected with the Blight, and gave the Wardens a purpose again.

“Dreary. Dismal. Cold. Take your pick,” Alistair huffed. “But no Wardens were lost. I also found a rock that looked like Varryn’s big head.”

I barked a laugh. “I need to see that.”

Alistair reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “Here. I keep it for good luck. Tuck it under my pillow every night. Sometimes I can even hear his snores.” He sniffed for good effect.

“Poor baby,” I muttered sarcastically as I took the rock from Alistair. Two seconds later I threw my head back and loudly laughed. “Holy shit it _does_ look like Brosca! I see the nose and everything!”

We shared a good laugh over it before I gave the memento back to Alistair. “How is Brosca, by the way?”

I pursed my lips. “He’s somewhere past the Tirashan. I don’t get told much. But everyone is still alive, so far.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. I do get told some pretty funny jokes. Like, he was telling me that Sigrun and Oghren were—”

“Alaran!” a voice suddenly called. Alistair and I stopped talking and turned our heads. Merrill, Hawke, and Beefcakes were coming our way. I smiled and waved, noting that the two people were walking a little closer than usual.

Alistair leaned my way and said, “Rumor has it they were caught making out on the roof of the tavern.”

I scoffed but smirked. “You’re such a gossip.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’ll talk to you later, Lavellan.”

“See you soon.”

Merrill, Hawke, and Beefs took up the vacant space left by Alistair. I gave them quick hugs. “How’s it going, guys?”

They exchanged quick glances before Hawke said, “Good, good, good.”

My brows instantly furrowed. “Uh oh. What’s going on?”

Merrill looked down at her dark red nails. “It’s just, ah, well, I wanted to…”

I gently signaled her to stop. With a small, understanding smile, I said, “You don’t have to explain. I think I already know. You’re going to return to Kirkwall.” My eyes went to Hawke. “And you’re going with her.”

They both blushed. I nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know why you were so nervous to tell me. I completely understand. It’s your home—both of your guys’ home. And though the Inquisition has helped the alienage, there’s still so much more you can get done if you were there.”

Hawke tried to laugh, but all that came out was a little noise. “I think…I just think it’s time that I go back. To Kirkwall. I’ve been running from the city for far too long.”

“Dude, yeah, I get it. I’m going to miss you, but if you think it’s for the best, I totally support your decision. Just keep me in the loop, alright? I got your back.”

Merrill and Garrett both grinned. Beefcakes wagged her tail. I drew them in for a group hug. “Just stay until Isabela comes, alright? She’d kill me if she knew I let you guys leave before she arrived.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Merrill said into my shoulder. When we let go and started turning the topic to what they’d be doing in Kirkwall, a certain curly-haired commander interrupted us.

“Whoa, Cullen, what’s the matter?” Hawke asked, actually sounding concerned. It wasn’t as if Rutherford was looking as collected as he usually did. A sheen of sweat made blond curls stick to his forehead, his hair itself was unusually disheveled, and he was tightly gripping the hilt of his sword. I would have first mistaken Cullen’s appearance as a result of a bad lyrium withdrawal day. But he was missing the shakes, the darting eyes, the flush.

“I-Inquisitor. A-A-Admiral Isabela has returned w-with the mages.”

 _The stutter._ Cullen said he hadn’t stuttered since his days in the Circle. It was just something he outgrew.

Ah.

I remembered why Cullen was so spastic, now.

“Don’t let Isabela make you nervous, Rutherford,” Hawke solemnly instructed. “She can smell fear.”

“Ooh, yes, that is very true,” Merrill agreed with the bob of her head.

I patted her on the shoulder. “Why don’t you three go give the Pirate Queen a proper greeting. I just need to go over some logistic stuff with Cullen, but we’ll be down in a bit.”

“Don’t be too long,” Hawke winked. When they were out-of-earshot, I turned to Cullen. He looked like a barely-contained mess.

“Breathe,” I said. “Just breathe.”

“M-Maker,” he stumbled, “I just—I haven’t—I shouldn’t be acting t-this ch-ch-childish. And this d-damned _stutter—”_ Cullen furiously cut himself off.

“Holy shit, Cullen, you need to stop having a conniption. It’s okay! It really is!”

“Alaran, I haven’t seen Hana—I haven’t seen her s-s-since—”

“Since she jumped out of the Circle Tower after failing to be made Tranquil. I know. But you are going to be just _fine._ Stop sweating and pull yourself together. And just… _don’t_ act like I have whenever I’ve reconnected with somebody I haven’t seen in years. Basically, a complete asshole.”

Cullen weakly laughed. “Come on, let’s get this thing over with. Then you need to take a bath or something. Because you’re sweating _a lot.”_

“You’re a master pep-talker, Alaran,” Cullen said dryly. I smirked.

“Hell yeah I am.”

-

“ALARAN!” Admiral Isabela crowed as I was crushed by her iron embrace. It was hard to breathe, seeing as my entire face was getting smothered by her Maker-given rack.

I was grinning so much it hurt. When I was finally allowed to come up for air, I was showered with kisses. “Admiral” Isabela looked almost the same. She aged as finely as the wine she regularly consumed.

“I’ve missed you,” I said to her. Isabela gave me another tight hug before finally letting go. “Girl, I’ve missed you a lot.”

“The men still ask about you,” Isabela laughed. “Some of them don’t believe that you’re the Inquisitor, now. I _personally_ think that you should come back with me and prove them wrong.” She looked over my shoulder and her cocky smile slipped. I followed her eyes and saw Varric, Kasi, and Bubs walking up to us. “Oh, fuck…”

“Yeah,” I muttered, stepping aside. “I feel ya.”

“Isabela,” Varric proudly declared, “I’d like you to meet the heir of House Tethras.”

She walked up to them and took Varric’s daughter. “So this is Kasi,” Isabela said as she fell in love with the little princess. “Oh, Varric, she’s absolutely _precious._ I’m going to snatch her away!”

“You do that, Rivaini, and I’ll have to…”

The conversation faded as I walked over to the refugees. Cullen joined my side. He hadn’t stopped sweating but looked a little calmer than he had been earlier.

I immediately knew who Hana Amell was. She stood at the head of the uncertain crowd, solid and unyielding. The faded sunburst brand in the center of her forehead was a beacon, a testament to her strength. Yet aside from the defining characteristic, she didn’t look like I imagined her in my head; dark, wild tresses of hair spilled down broad shoulders, high cheekbones and a strong jawline shaped her face, and half-lidded, onyx eyes surveyed every inch of the courtyard. Hana wasn’t conventionally attractive, but her unique facial features would undoubtedly make others turn their heads. She was taller than most women, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought she was Polynesian.

But that was stupid.

Hana was dressed in Rivaini-style traveling clothes. A loose tunic was tucked into tight leggings, heavy necklaces hung around her neck, and an embellished, fitted jacket protected her from cooler mountain temperatures. She gripped a gnarled staff with an assortment of feathers and beads wrapped around it.

“You must be Hana Amell,” I said, extending an arm out to the mage. She solemnly clasped it with a strong hand. Cullen said that though she wasn’t Tranquil, Hana was solemn enough to be one.

“And you’re Inquisitor Lavellan,” Hana replied, a strange accent heavy on her tongue. One of my brows twitched upwards. The accent…I had _heard_ it, before. “Thank you for lending us aid.”

The Veil shifted around Hana, just as it did me, just as it did Varryn, just as it did Skyggen.

Oh, **_come on._**

Hana’s inkwell eyes glossed over to Cullen. He was standing beside me, as rigid as a board. “Cullen,” she simply nodded. There was no indication of the possible feelings she had for the ex-templar.

“Hana. It is...good to see you again.”

There was still no change in her expression. Hana looked back to me. “We have traveled far, Inquisitor, and we are all tired. If there are ready spaces available for us, we’ll gladly take them.”

“Yeah, you have traveled far, haven’t you?” I prompted, feeling Cullen glance down at me. He _knew_ that tone in my voice. The tone foreshadowing trouble.

If Hana was perturbed, she hid it well. “Yes. It is a long journey from Rivain to here.”

Varryn’s words rang hollowly in my head. _Hallah has enemies that are just as powerful as she is…and much more demented. They like to play games with her—and use us as pieces of that game._

Could this Hana Amell be my enemy? Be somebody that was sent to try and destroy me?

“Have you lived in other places besides Rivain?” I followed up.

“Of course. It’s difficult to settle down as an apostate with a Tranquil brand.”

I wasn’t buying it.

My hand strayed to my dagger. _Maybe Hallah sent her here. Maybe she’s one of the good guys. Cullen certainly thinks so._

_But maybe she’s not. Can I take that risk?_

It sucked to suddenly understand where Varryn came from when he initially attacked me after finding out I was an Otherworlder.

But I wasn’t going to be like Varryn. I couldn’t afford to publicly accuse Hana of anything, especially of being from the same world as me. We were too out in the open, and I didn’t have enough information on her, yet. Maybe Hallah Lynne sent her. Maybe not. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Either this was going to be a very dangerous situation, or a very beneficial one.

I flatly hummed in my throat. “I would imagine so. Well, Hana Amell, I take it that you and your company are exhausted from the journey. One of our lieutenants will escort you to the living arrangements we’ve set up. There’s food in the main hall, so if you’re hungry you can find some there.” I managed to smile and make it look real. “Skyhold—the Inquisition—welcomes you.”

As soon as Hana and the other weary refugees departed to less-occupied wing of Skyhold, Cullen and I simultaneously let out giant exhales. “Did you see the way she looked at me?” he softly questioned. I gave him a look of my own. Hana Amell was many things, but she wasn’t…expressive. I couldn’t discern anything from her, which obviously irked me. I was a master discerner.

But I didn’t know her like Cullen did. To be honest, I didn’t think she was his _type._

“Maker’s breath, she’s even more beautiful than I remember,” Cullen whispered to himself, amber eyes faraway.

“She’s an Otherworlder,” I bluntly stated. The nearly audible sound of glass shattered.

“…What?”

“An Otherworlder,” I frowned. “I’m assuming that you had no idea she was.”

“Wh…How do you know that?”

“The Veil reacts to her like it does to me. That accent is unique only to my world, too. New Zealand. Always wanted to go there. I’m betting she’s Maori.” A huff. “Congratulations, Cullen. You have the hots for an alien.”

He had the right to look stunned. I groaned and pushed my glasses up to rub my suddenly tired eyes. “I didn’t get enough sleep for this.”

I really didn’t. Because last night I was having sex with Solas.

“You can’t be serious, Alaran,” Cullen lowly said.

“You’d think I’d be joking about this to have a good ol’ fucking laugh about it later?”

It was Cullen’s turn to give me a look. “I’m being completely serious!” I cleared my throat to keep my voice down. “Council meeting in thirty. Because from my understanding of these things, Hana was sent here for a purpose. And that purpose might be to kill me.”

Ya know, the whole Otherworlder thing was getting old _really_ fast.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and I also hope that nobody is getting tired of Otherworlders, now. I wanted to bring Hana in later on, but it was just the right time.
> 
> The next chapter with Isabela is going to be interesting.


	58. Digging Up Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al asks around about Hana and prepares for Halamshiral

“She looks…serious,” Varric slowly stated as he, Solas, Dorian, and I stared at Hana Amell from the other side of the library. The branded mage was speaking with Helisma about something we couldn’t hear. Though she was the prime example of a reserved person, there was something underneath that made her powerful. Respected.

Dangerous.

Then again, that was coming from me. Somebody who was powerful, respected, and dangerous.

I saw the way the advisers looked at me when I beheaded that pig of a man. Their expressions varied, of course; Leliana was detached calm, Cullen was rigid solemnity, and Josephine was terse hesitancy. But they were all thinking the same thing. If I ever strayed from the Inquisition’s path, they would have to put me down.

And, maybe they could. I doubted it. At least, they wouldn’t be able to outmaneuver me. Leliana, Cullen, or Cassandra would have to be one of the people to put a sword through my chest. But by then I’d have already set things in motion, things that nobody could stop, and if I wanted I could rebuild Thedas from the ground up—

The flash of Varric looking disappointed at me burst in my mind, nearly making me jump. Varric, Solas, Hawke, Cullen, Dorian, Josie, Cassandra— _everyone_ would try to stop me if I was ever consumed by the hunger for power. I would have to end them before they could stop me. And in losing them, I would never be able to regain myself.

Suddenly I felt tired and guilty. Tired because the past few days had been chaotic as hell, and guilty for even thinking about turning dark. It made me sick to believe that I even thought of it. I could never do that. Never, _never._

I glanced up at the rookery. Nightingale’s eyes were fixed on Hana Amell. We had discussed at length what to do about the Otherworlder and how we should prepare ourselves for each possible outcome. But for now, we all agreed that it was best to sit back, watch, and gather what we could on her.

“You said she was from where?” Dorian asked me.

“New Zealand. Their accents are identifiable. I watched _What We Do in the Shadows_ and _Whale Rider_ enough times to recognize it. But it’s, like, super far from where I live. On the other side of the world.” I couldn’t help but add, “Because, you know, worlds are technically _round.”_ I hummed. “Actually, Thedas is about the size of North America. The continent I came from. Very big, but still…there’s a lot more out there. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like. Especially with, you know, magic.”

“Alaran,” Dorian sighed tiredly, “I’ve had a headache for a solid month from going over all the books you found in that abandoned library. I don’t need it worsened thinking about things like that.”

“Sorry.”

A _zing_ in my left hand caused me to hiss. I looked down at the Anchor and saw it flaring up. “Argh,” I grumbled as I shook it.

“Is it acting up?” Solas inquired as he took my hand and examined the sparking Mark. Familiar fingers traced over my palm.

“Yeah,” I grimaced. “Ever since the mages started working on balancing the Veil around here, I’ve been getting little aches and pains. But don’t worry; it’s more irritating than worrisome.”

Solas ran his thumb over the green tear, soothing the magic he once commanded. “Better?”

“Better,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Al, sometimes that…thing…gives me the willies,” Varric admitted as he regarded the Anchor. “There’s gotta be a way for you to get rid of it, right?”

“Yeah,” I huffed, flexing and unflexing my hand. “I’ll just cut my flipping arm off. Problem solved.”

“Can’t you just…I don’t know, sew it up?”

Dorian, Solas and I all gave Varric flat looks. The dwarf raised his hands in submission. “Hey, hey, all I’m saying is that you intellectuals sometimes overthink simple things. There has to be a solution besides chopping your arm off.”

“Hopefully,” I muttered, giving Solas a sidelong look. Then I shrugged and said, “But hey, I’ve already decided that if I do lose my arm, I’m going to get it replaced with an axe.”

“Disturbing, but not unsurprising,” Dorian remarked.  “So what are you going to do with this…Hana Amell?”

“Watch. Wait. See what kind of person she is.” I tilted my head to the side as an idea came to life. “Perhaps Finn might be able to tell me what Hana was like when they were in Kinloch together. If he remembers her at all.”

“What, Curly isn’t a reliable source?” Varric jokingly asked. The four of us shared an assortment of amused snorts and scoffs.

“Poor Cullen,” I sighed as we wandered back to the alcove Dorian claimed as his own. “His stutter comes back with a vengeance whenever he has to directly talk about Hana.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what he was like around her when they were young,” said Dorian.

“Probably about as awkward as he is now,” I chuckled, pulling out a book from the tightly-packed shelf. As I regarded the cover, I said in a lower voice, “Solas, there’s something I need to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

My eyes flickered back over to Hana. Her back was turned to us, but I had a feeling that she knew we were watching her movement. “Trail Hana in the Fade. See where she goes and who she interacts with.”

Solas nodded once.  Varric and Dorian made no comments. I leaned against the wall and opened the book in my hands. I just wanted to _read,_ but I didn’t have much time for anything outside of work, anymore. Even this was an informal meeting; earlier Varric was telling me what his spies had picked up on in Starkhaven, and Dorian spoke about how Tevinter was pointedly ignoring the threat of Corypheus. Those who voiced their support for the Inquisition were openly putting themselves in danger.

Starkhaven was a whole other matter. King Vael was holding up to the oath he swore when he found that Hawke had let Anders go after the explosion. I was half-conscious when he said it, but remembered the furious words he spoke all the same.

_And I will bring such an army with me on my return that there’ll be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule. I swear to you, I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is._

Though Anders was nowhere to be found, Sebastian was moving in on the City of Chains all the same. It wasn’t happening just yet, but I had an ominous premonition that the Inquisition would be dealing with it before the year was over.

I had always imagined that I would be standing _with_ my friends. Never against them.

But Sebastian was being an asshole. I’d put him in his place if I had to.

-

Finn was in the mage tower, studiously going over numerous tomes laid out on a table. When he didn’t sense my entrance, I cleared my throat as non-threateningly as I could. Still, he yelped and spun around. “Oh! Oh! I-Inquisitor! I—I didn’t realize it was—forgive me—”

I mimicked Varric’s own easy smile and gestured for him to calm down. “I’m sorry I didn’t set up a formal meeting,” I apologized as I strolled over to the table Finn was working over. “But frankly, I’m pretty sick of being in those.” I raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the mage. “How’s Ariane and the baby?”

“Oh, they’re splendid! The Inquisition is like a big family for us. My responsibilities call me back here, of course, but a majority of my days are spent with my wife and child.” Finn graciously nodded. “I have you to thank for that, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

I nonchalantly shrugged. “Hey, you deserve to be with them. Families are important.”

He agreed with a grin and returned to the spot he was standing at before I interrupted. “So, is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes.” I clasped my hands behind my back, eyes flitting over the open books on the table. “This might be somewhat of a strange question, but did you ever interact with Hana Amell back in Kinloch Hold?”

“Er, yes.” I could see that Finn had already concluded that I wasn’t just asking because I was curious. His brows furrowed slightly and a corner of his lip pulled downward. Even so, he cleared his throat and went on. “What would you like to know?”

“Oh, just what she was like and things such as that. I can’t say that her character hasn’t intrigued me.”

Deciding it was best to answer me, Finn cleared his throat and distractedly began shuffling and sorting papers strewn about. “Hana…certainly has an intriguing character, yes. She’s never been a talkative one, in case you haven’t noticed. I—I remember the day she came to the Tower.” Finn’s eyes grew distant. “The Fade…did something around her. Not _to_ her. Like it was recoiling from her being. Over time it grew less noticeable, but could be sensed if one concentrated long enough. The templars were always wary of her, but Irving recognized Hana’s power and potential and took her under his wing. She…excelled very quickly at magic, but often frustrated many of the enchanters.”

“Why?”

A nervous chuckle. “Because Hana would never do what she didn’t want to, including demeaning tasks that some of the enchanters liked to put mages and apprentices through. The only other enchanter besides Irving that managed to get through to her was a woman named Wynne. Even then…well, Hana was frustrating _because_ she wasn’t forthcoming with much. Often times the enchanters have their students describe what they feel when casting a spell; Hana never did that. She spoke primarily through action. Not that it kept her from mastering anything. Come to think of it, I don’t think there was ever a spell she didn’t accomplish.”

“Was there anybody she was close to?”

Finn nodded after a moment. “A blood mage, Jowan, was somehow Hana’s friend. I suppose Wynne got through to her on some levels, a-and Commander Rutherford—” We both shared knowing snickers before Finn trailed off, looking slightly nervous again. “Hana was…close to another mage, too, for a time.” He started speaking more quickly. “But he escaped about a year before he did. I’m not sure what they did together, but it—”

“Who was it?”

Finn hesitated before responding. “The mage Anders. The one who blew up the Kirkwall Chantry.”

My brows lifted a bit, but I didn’t appear to be outwardly shocked or affronted. Finn opened and closed his mouth a few times, confused by my reaction. “I thought…well, I thought you would be a little more…”

“Upset? Nah. Anders was a friend of mine,” I said. Finn sputtered. “I haven’t spoken to him in years, but we knew each other in Kirkwall.”

“I—well, I had no idea you knew him _personally.”_

“Eh, most people don’t for a reason. But back to the point. Do you recall how they interacted with each other? I’m sorry for dredging up the past; if you don’t remember anything I won’t be mad.”

Finn scratched the side of his head, mussing up copper hair. “Uh, well, Hana always created diversions to help Anders escape. She would have gotten in trouble, but Irving loved her too much to ever give an actual punishment. I was younger than the both of them, so I couldn’t tell you how their relationship was. But, um, when Anders finally did escape, Hana was put into solitary confinement for a month because she was an accomplice.”

Hm. That sounded…heroic. Something a good guy would do.

I nodded once. “And what happened after she escaped?”

“Things were…strange. I overhead a lot of the mages and enchanters talking about how they missed her. Hana wasn’t talkative, but neither did she ever fade into the background. She was…solid. That—that sounds bad, but it’s true. Take what happened to Greagoir, for example. Hana branded him with a Tranquil mark after hers was unsuccessful. Somebody who didn’t care about what happened wouldn’t have done that. And personally? I think Uldred’s uprising during the Blight could have single-handedly been crushed by Amell if she were there.”

“So she had gotten out by then?”

“Yes. She left about two months before Ostagar was overrun. I vaguely remember a Grey Warden wanting to recruit her, but plans fell through.”

Was Hana supposed to take Varryn’s place but was unsuccessful? Why was she sent here? What did her patron have in store?

Finn glanced around to make sure nobody had come near enough to hear our conversation. He leaned in closer to me as he spoke again. “Rumor had it that…that Hana had an affiliation with a forbidden object in the Tower’s lower levels. She consorted with it, and thus was able to escape.”

“What artifact?” I questioned in the same level of tone.

“There was a statue. A Tevinter statue. I talked to it a handful of times—purely for research, of course—but she…the statue…mentioned Hana once. Or, at least I _think_ she mentioned her. I can’t be sure.”

_Eleni Zinovia. How could I have forgotten **her?**_

I smiled despite the tightness in my heart and clasped Finn on the shoulder. “Thank you, Finn. You’ve been a great help. I’ll give—”

“Inquisitor,” somebody interrupted. Finn and I snapped our heads to the flight of stairs where the voice had come from. Shokrakar Adaar smoothly walked out from behind them, seemingly camouflaged despite her height and stature. A book was tucked under her gray arm, white hair spilling down her back and horns. Burning orange eyes bore into me, just as they always did. “I do not mean to intrude, nor did I mean to eavesdrop.”

“Really?” I asked skeptically as I tilted my head up to her. “I find that a little hard to believe. And aren’t you supposed to be on a mission?”

She made a noise of disgust, but that was usually the only sound Shok made so I brushed it off. “We returned to Skyhold a day ago. Missed the beheading, unfortunately. But I like coming here to study and see what new spells I might be able to learn.”

“Without an instructor?” Finn inquired dubiously as he eyed Shokrakar with slight suspicion. “Is that safe?”

He got a flat stare in return. I grimaced. Asking the elder Adaar sibling things like that was never good. “When I’m facing a down a dozen Venatori, little man, the last thought on my mind will be casting a “safe” spell. You practice your magic your way, and I’ll practice mine.” Before Finn could react, Shok looked back down at me. “My company sheltered Hana Amell back in the early days of the Valo-Kas. She’s a powerful mage, Inquisitor. More powerful than many realize.”

“I believe it,” I muttered, running a couple fingers over a silver brow.

“I’m guessing that’s not all you wanted to know,” Shok went on. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking questions in such a secretive manner.” She glued me to the floor with her intense gaze. After a moment of tense silence, Shok said, “Hana Amell is a good person. She cares deeply for others, not unlike you. Is that enough information?”

 _No._ “Yeah, is it. Thanks. Tell your brother I said hi.”

“I will.”

I turned back to Finn. “And thank you, too. Be sure to give your baby a lot of hugs and kisses for me, alright?”

He smiled and dipped his head. “It would be my pleasure, Inquisitor.”

As I departed, I couldn’t help but think that Hana Amell was trying to dig up stuff on me, too. Because as surely as I felt her difference, she almost assuredly felt mine.

-

It was the night before Merrill and Hawke departed to Kirkwall. Isabela offered to travel back with them and guarantee a safe (and fun) passage, so she’d be leaving as well. Though I secretly wished they could stay forever, I wasn’t going to hold them back from being where they needed to be.

So I sat at a table on the floor level of the tavern, smirking and lounging in my seat as I watched my compatriots get drunk off their asses. Maryden was striking up a feisty tune that made a lot of people want to dance. My own foot was tapping to the beat, but I refused to boogie. I was already humiliated enough during practice with Josephine and Viv; I didn’t need that in my free time.

The thought of dancing at the Winter Palace made my relaxed smile sour for a moment before I hid it behind a mug filled with water. Ugh. _Halamshiral._ We’d have to go there in a short while. The pathos part of me cringed at the thought of being amongst the finely-dressed scum of the earth, but the logos part of me was spinning with glee. There were few other pastimes I enjoyed more than intellectually outmaneuvering my adversaries.

I hoped Empress Celene and Duke Gaspard knew that I was coming for them.

“Though I know how much you value your thoughts,” Solas said in his subtly sarcastic, teasing tone, “might I suggest enjoying the evening without thinking of world-shaking actions?” He was seated next to me, enjoying a mug of ale. Solas didn’t drink much, but I knew it took a lot for him to feel the alcohol’s effects.

I smirked and brought my mind to the present. “Butthead,” I chuckled. But he was right. I needed to take as many little breaks as I could.

Sera shoved her way through the crowd with my lute in her grasp. I confusedly turtle-frowned and sat up. “Broke into your room,” the rogue explained with a grin. “Thought you could use this.”

“I’m not playing,” I flatly stated. “Maryden is doing a great job, and I don’t want to steal the show from her.” Sera blew a raspberry and handed me my instrument.

“Maryden has been playing the same focking tune for the past thirty minutes. Give ‘er a break, yeah?”

I loudly sighed and looked down at Bubs, who was intensely chewing on a large bone that I certainly didn’t give him. Gobs of slobber formed on the corners of his lips. “What do you think, my main?” I asked. “Should I?”

Bubba _harrumphed_ affirmatively without looking up. I patted his fat head and stood. Sera whooped and started shouting that the Quizzy was going to perform. Isabela, Hawke, Merrill, and Varric all boisterously cheered me on. Tethras was drinking tonight because Kasi was getting watched over by a nanny that wasn’t Bubberston.

“I am so sorry!” I shouted into Maryden’s ear when the whole tavern realized that the Inquisitor was going to play. The noise levels exponentially increased, hence the reason why I was yelling at the top of my lungs. “If you want to keep the floor, I completely understand!

Maryden only laughed charmingly and gripped my shoulder. Her eyes were bright with life and music. “It would be an honor to hear you play, Herald!” she shouted back. “Please! Take the floor!”

I thanked the bard and took her place. Keeping up the lively spirit, I struck a tune familiar to me and foreign to everyone else. _Paint it Black_ by The Rolling Stones sounded surprisingly good on the lute, and even better with my adjustments and variations. My hips began to enthusiastically sway back and forth, and it was a struggle to keep from outright dancing. The beginning of the song was strange and made everyone pause, but a couple seconds later and they were back to mingling and dancing. Hawke was spinning Merrill in wide circles, both of them giggling and blushing. Isabela was saucily dancing around Varric, and Blackwall and Sera were wildly swinging each other around. The Valo-Kas also took up a good portion of the dance floor. Karaas was dorkily pulling moves on an amused Katoh, and Kaariss and Taarlok were arguing while their feet moved in perfect synchronization.

I loved the Qunari mercenary band, and truly needed to spend more time with them. We had all been through a lot together; one of my most horrifying, bone-chilling experiences had occurred while traveling with the company. I wondered if they had as many nightmares of the Frozen Wastes as I did.

It was a little strange, thinking about if I didn’t wind up as the Inquisitor, Shok or Karaas would have been deemed the Herald. Adaar _was_ the Qunari Inquisitor option, right? Either one of them would have made for good leaders. I had yet to meet a Trevelyan, but Kasi had been taken care of by the Cadash family…meaning that somebody from there might have been the Inquisitor as well. And was there an actual Lavellan out there that should have been at the Conclave?

I finished off the song with a grand ending and received deafening applause. The musician in me glowed with pride. I was immediately embraced by Merrill, who was half-laughing, half-sobbing. “Oh, Alaran,” she whimpered, “I’m going to miss you.”

I hugged her with the arm that wasn’t cradling my lute. “I’m going to miss you, too, Merrill,” I chuckled. When she let go I wiped away the tears from her cheeks. Isabela put an arm around the black-haired elf and pulled her close.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I’m sure you’ll see little Alaran again soon.” Isabela winked in lightheartedness, but one glance at Hawke told me that the possible reasons why were serious. Kirkwall was falling apart, making it highly likely that the Inquisition would be asked to intervene.

“I gotta say,” Varric shouted over the dull roar of the tavern, “I’m sad you three are leaving right before we head out to the Winter Palace! Things would have been more fun that way!”

“Agreed!” I yelled. “Imagine how much debauchery we could have gotten into!”

“Don’t tempt me!” Isabela groaned before tossing back the last of her mug of ale. “Now start up another song! I want to dance until my feet are numb!”

We laughed as loudly as we could, ignoring the hollow ache that came with seeing friends depart. I wished I could have been like I was twelve years ago; I would have followed the four people standing in front of me to the ends of the earth. If not that, then fed them a good meal and made sure they were doing alright. But so much had changed, and I couldn’t go back to being a nineteen-year-old with an attitude and an overabundance of pride even if I tried.

Was it weird for them, looking at me and seeing Inquisitor Al instead of Kirkwall Al? Or was I generally the same in spite of the years that passed?

Some questions would just have to go unanswered, I supposed. I personally believed that I’ve changed, in ways both good and bad. But…but no matter what, I could still play music for my family.

I fondly smiled and stepped back, fingers striking up another tune. It was an old favorite that had always been played in the Hanged Man. The four Kirkwallers in front of me cheered and clapped and started dancing again. I started singing the lyrics and stamping my feet, getting into the groove of things.  Halfway through the jam session I turned my head to Solas, who was barely visible behind the throng. He was smiling at me with a heaviness in his eyes that did funny things to my lower extremities. I smirked through my singing and continued pretending like my lute was an electric guitar.

There was no doubt that Solas worshipped me in the bedroom. Our bodies were meant for each other, were meant to roll and writhe and find rhythm together. He did things that made me lose my breath, and I did things that made him cry out my name like it was the only word he knew. And afterwards, when our gasps had finally trailed off and we fell into silence, I was held tightly and tenderly. Even when I actually drifted to sleep and awoke with my legs and arms strewn awkwardly over Solas, he still stayed. That had to mean something.

There was sweat on my brow by the time I finished the second song. Even though I could have played for a lot longer, I didn’t want to steal the show from Maryden. I motioned for her to retake the bard’s spot and went back to my table with another loud round of applause.

“That was fantastic,” Solas said to me as I lifted my mug to take a hearty gulp of water. His eyes went to the mug and slightly widened. “Alaran, that’s—”

_The water wasn’t water._

I loudly, unironically sprayed the alcohol out of my mouth. It had gone down the wrong pipe, adding to the foreign, fiery sensation burning away my throat. It was as though I had swallowed a rage demon’s diarrhea. I coughed and sputtered, pounding my fist against the table as I fought the urge to gag.  “T-the f-fu—” I tried to get out, but only violently coughed some more. Solas put his hand on my back and patted it. “D-did you f— _ack—_ ing switch my d— _hugh—_ drink?”

“No,” Solas answered. “You merely grabbed mine.”

I looked up to scowl at him. _“Ugh._ You drink _that?”_

“Most people do, Alaran.”

Bubs, noticing my distress, sat up and licked my bare hand. I wiped away tears and tried to not outright sob. The frowning, scrunched-up face I made at Solas caused him to abruptly chuckle. Despite the burning pain in my mouth, throat, and lungs, a smile twitched on the corner of my lips. I always enjoyed being the one to make Solas laugh. “I hate you,” I wheezed.

But really, I loved him.

I’d like to say that something dramatic happened for the sake of the plot. But nothing did. It was just a good night with good friends and good music.

A good moment.

-

_Nightingale,_

_The situation in Kirkwall is worsening. King Vael is blatantly violating official Free Marcher codes by stationing soldiers within Kirkwall territories. Though the Kirkwall Guard can’t openly engage, there have  been reports guerilla-like skirmishes. None have resulted in casualties; I believe they’re doing it just to try and rattle the other. But there is no doubt that soon the skirmishes will become frighteningly more. And with word of the Champion’s return on every lip from Hightown to the docks, tension levels are quickly reaching a breaking point. Captain Vallen maintains vigilant control, but talks with King Vael have proved unsuccessful. She has—_

Solas’ sudden cry made me snap my head up from the missive Leliana was sent. The mage sat up on the bed, blankets sliding down and revealing his bare torso. His breaths were ragged and a sheen of sweat coated his scalp.

I quickly stood and raced over to his side. “What happened?” I fervently asked as I took a seat on the edge of the bed. Solas ran a hand over his face to steady himself. He had been trailing Hana Amell for a few nights after I tasked him with the duty, being the sneaky sneaker he was. She was elusive, though, and proved difficult to find and stay locked on. Because of that, we hadn’t gotten much information on the Otherworlder.

“Hana saw me,” Solas breathed. “I did not hide myself, and instead began explaining why I was in her dreams. She leaves a unique imprint, not unlike yours, but at the same time vastly different. Yet…yet before I could get more than a few words in, she _banished_ me. From her dreams, from the Fade. Mages are only powerful enough to do that to demons and spirits, if that.”

“But she managed to do that to a living being. ” I concluded darkly. Solas nodded once. “Were you able to see anything?”

This time he shook his head. “No. Hana could expertly manipulate the Fade. She constantly cloaked herself. The reason why she saw me was because I made the mistake of getting close enough to see through the cloak.” Solas paused for a moment. “Do you think she has played the game as well?”

“Probably. We’re going to assume so.” I let out a breath and crossed my bare legs. It was too late for me to be wearing any sorts of trousers. “Solas, I…I’m not sure what to do. We leave for Halamshiral in just a few days; what if something happens when I’m gone? Even after digging, we still know basically _nothing_ about her. It’s freaking me out.” I rubbed my jutting collarbone, leaving a smear of red on my porcelain skin. “Is this how Leliana and Cass felt when I got the Anchor on my hand? Ugh, I don’t like it.”

“What has the spymaster found?” Solas prompted, taking my hand and holding it in his own.

“Next to nothing. It’s basically what Cullen told me when he found out she was coming here in the first place. Hana washed up on the shores of Redcliffe, passed her Harrowing with flying colors, became an excellent mage, didn’t talk much, and jumped out the Tower window and somehow survived the dive into the lake. She seems like a decent enough person; she helped refugees and apostates, established a sound potion practice in Rivain, and is overall a badass lady. She _branded_ Knight-Commander Greagoir with the same Tranquil brand that’s on her forehead. I just feel like she’s not a bad person.

“But Hallah hasn’t been around for nearly two and a half weeks, and I usually see her a couple times each week. Her silence worries me. And what if Hana thinks that _I’m_ going to try and kill her? If she is from another patron, they might have told her that I would if she didn’t kill me first. Which, honestly, may come to pass. I can’t get paranoid, but neither can I simply let it go.” I sighed and keeled into Solas’ lap. “And then there’s _Halamshiral.”_

“What do you intend to do there?” It was a question that went further than skin-deep.

I turned over so I was laying on my back, head resting on Solas’ legs. “I _want_ to bring Orlais to its knees and make them suffer. I _want_ to purge it of the noble class and ignite a revolution. I _want_ to burn them to the ground just like they burned alienages.”

“And what are you really going to do?”

“Commit some regicide, at least. End the civil war and bring order to the Dales. Show Orlais who’s boss simply by being awesome. Things like that. Probably make a fashion statement while I’m at it, too.”

“How are you going to do that?” Solas softly chuckled as he calmed my tense heart by running his fingers along my jawline and up to the tips of my sensitive ears. I smirked up at him.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

-

 _“Non, je ne l’aime pas,”_ I flatly murmured. Josephine bit back a sharp sigh and put on one of her forced smiles instead. The Orlesian seamstress looked back and forth between us, unsure of who to pander to.

 _“Mais, Inquisitor…”_ the ambassador began, _“rouge signifie puissance, et avec l’or et le bleu, c’est—”_

“Josephine,” I half-laughed, _“écoute-moi. Je connais la mode.”_ I dubiously regarded the garish red uniform on the mannequin. _“Et ce n’est pas la mode.”_

The seamstress tried not to look offended, and Josephine quickly tittered, _“Désolée, désolée,”_ to her. I felt the fabric with my fingertips and hummed before moving up and taking off the gold mask placed on the mannequin’s head.

 _“Pas de masques,”_ I said. _“Je veux faire un déclaration de mode.”_

Josephine switched back to Common. “Inquisitor Lavellan, wearing masks is a vital part of the Game. We are not above it.”

“Oh, I know that,” I said, holding the mask up to my face. “But, like I said: fashion statement. _More_ than a fashion statement.  A political statement.”

“Many will be offended,” Josie cautioned. I smirked at her.

“Good. Ooh, _j'ai une bonne idée.”_ I walked over to the fabrics set out on the seamstress’ display table and took a good look.

Josephine followed, saying, “Need I remind you that while you are the Herald of Andraste, you are not a seamstress. Perhaps we should consult with Madame Gautier?”

“Yes,” Vivienne chimed in as she glided through the door. She informed us that she’d be a little late to the fitting due to a prior engagement, but still managed to make a memorable entrance. “Knowing you, dear Inquisitor, you’d just pick dark colors that all look the same.” I frowned and took my hand off the dark swath of fabric I was intent on wearing.

“So what do you recommend, then?” I questioned with a considerable amount of salt in my voice. “I don’t want everybody in individual attire. We need to symbolize our unification. But I also don’t want to look like cherry tomatoes—sorry, Josie and Madame Gautier—either. And _no masks.”_

“Very well.” Vivienne strode up beside me, her unparalleled elegance making me feel like a little stumpy gremlin. “Remember that daring outfit you wore to my salon during the start of the Inquisition?”

“Heck yes I do. That was the most badass outfit I’ve ever worn. You think we should have armor incorporated in?”

“Maker, no,” Vivienne lightly laughed. I kept from scowling. “What I’m trying to say is that silver looks fantastic on you. Even if some of the others might not go with it as much, that doesn’t matter. You are the centerpiece.”

“Damn right I am,” I smiled. “But I do want a darker color. Midnight blue? Or at least a royal.”

“Midnight,” Josephine said pithily, conceding to my fondness for the color. “With silver and white accents.”

I scratched at the visibly exposed scar on my neck, feeling the raised skin. “This whole ordeal is going to be a giant crock of coq au vin shit. Might as well look good while dealing with it.”

“Yes, well, hopefully your looks will distract from the astonishing fact that you don’t have a single dancing bone in your body,” Vivienne added dryly. I sneered at her.

“Sometimes, Viv, your comments are really backhanded.”

“Wait until you reach the Winter Palace.”

I made a face at the enchantress and moved to stand on the small platform. The seamstress—who was really a gracious, refined woman—took my measurements while I made conversation with her in my limited knowledge of the Orlesian language. Josephine and Vivienne watched on, drinking tea and eating dainty finger foods while they chatted about nobles and politics. _I_ wanted some, but I had to stand on the pedestal and starve. When Madame Gautier and I ran out of things to talk about, I started pointing to things and asking her what the ~~French~~ Orlesian word was for them. Did you know that the word for sewing needle was _aiguille à coudre?_ Amazing. I learned something new every day.

After my measurement had finally been completed, I raced over to the triple-tiered platter filled with food Josephine and Vivienne only nibbled on. They were delicate ladies who ate delicate food and pretended they were full after sucking on two cucumber slices.

Well. I wasn’t a delicate lady.

“Mama hungry,” I said in a deep voice as I started stacking scones and fruits into my hands.

“You eat like those mercenaries you dallied with,” Vivienne said as she sharply regarded my behavior. I turtle-frowned at her through a mouthful of bread.

“So what?” I argued. “Ya know, Viv, you—”

“Leliana wishes to see you, Inquisitor,” Josephine smoothly interrupted. “Just to make some finalizations about the Winter Palace.”

“Okay,” I drawled, then pushed up my spectacles with my shoulder because my hands were filled with food. “Oh, would you mind if I took his whole platter thing? Neither of you women are probably going to eat it.”

“You were just fitted,” Vivienne said. “We wouldn’t want to make emergency adjustments the night before peace talks.”

I shoved more food into my mouth so I could free a hand. The tunic I wore was tucked into my trousers, so I pulled it out and lifted it up to show my well-defined six-pack, complete with some old scars and recent bruises from sparring with Cassandra. “Eh,” I shrugged, voice light but eyes sharp, “I think I’ll be just fine.”

Then, out of sheer spite and mild irritation, I picked up the tiered tray and walked out.

-

Leliana arched a brow when she saw me enter the rookery. I stuffed the third scone in my mouth and waved, making my way over to her desk. I planted the platter between us and plopped down in the seat. “Want some?” I bluntly asked, gesturing to it. Leliana faintly smiled and took a strawberry tart from the second tier.

“How did the fitting go?”

“Great,” I said in a tone that obviously stated it hadn’t. “I’m basically fluent in Orlesian, so there’s that.”

 _“Vraiment?”_ Leliana lightly scoffed.

 _“Oui oui,”_ I answered. _“Est-ce que vous voulez une omelette du fromage? Putain. Merde. Zut. Va te faire foutre. Je m’en—”_

“I’m almost certain Madame Vivienne did not teach you those,” Leliana said flatly. I lowly laughed to myself.

“No. I just remember them from my travels. Except for the cheese omelet thing. That’s an Earth joke.”

“Amusing.” Leliana finished off her tart and stood. “Walk with me.”

I bit back a loud and immature sigh and got back to my feet. We exited through one of the side doors and out onto a small balcony overlooking the stables and growing bazaar. I leaned onto the stone and surveyed Skyhold. “What did you wish to discuss?”

Leliana didn’t sugarcoat anything. “Your intentions concerning Empress Celene.”

A sudden breeze tousled loose strands of white hair. “Are you loyal to Empress of Fire?”

“I’m loyal to the Inquisition.”

“Good.”

“In the dark future you were in, Alaran, Corypheus had slain Celene. Ending her life could be disastrous.”

“Corypheus also had a demon army. And possessed Wardens. I also wasn’t there. That makes a major difference.” My gaze hardened and I straightened. “The plans I have don’t involve Celene Valmont.”

“An assassination of this scale could destroy the Inquisition.”

“We aren’t assassinating. We’re merely standing aside while one takes place.”

Leliana and I were silent for several moments until she finally said, “I know what happened. The fire that ravaged the slums. How you were there.”

Even though my eyes remained open, I could perfectly see the billowing flames that consumed entire buildings within minutes. I could feel heat searing my skin and smoke filling my lungs. I could hear screams swallowed up by the deafening roar of the fire. “She sanctioned the death of thousands, Leliana,” I said just above a whisper. “And she’ll keep doing it until the elves finally snap and riots begin. More turmoil, more death.”

“She’s established an unprecedented focus on the arts. Elves are now allowed into the colleges in Orlais.”

“Do you think I care?” I quietly snapped. “Do you think that makes things better? Allowing a few select elves into a library while their families’ ashes are scattered across Halamshiral?”

“Will allowing her to be killed make things better? More death frequently equates to more death. If Celene dies, Gaspard will take the throne. The civil war will certainly end, but a war between Ferelden and Orlais will ignite. The oppression of the elves will worsen.”

“Leave Gaspard to me. Just…trust me, Leliana. I’m not being forthcoming because there are more than a dozen ways that the peace talks can go. I don’t want to say one thing and then end up doing something completely different.”

“Are there any scenarios where Celene lives?”

“A couple. The worst scenarios. I die in most of them.”

Leliana’s laugh was full of mirth. “I’ve believed for a while now that you’ll never die.”

“Don’t say that. I’m probably going to die in the most awkward way possible. Like, I’ll accidentally cut myself on one of Sera’s capped arrows or get my chest crushed by an angry bronto.” We both shared a good chuckle over the thoughts before I trailed off into seriousness again. “I shouldn’t be excited to go to the Winter Palace.”

“Yet here we are,” Leliana said, voice a soft sigh on the breeze. “Just remember the objective: find out where Corypheus’ hand is in all of this. Try not to have too much fun while you’re at it.”

“No promises. Who knows what the Despair Ham will do to me?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry...I thought this chapter would be everyone going to the Winter Palace, but there was too much exposition I needed to get out of the way. But next chapter we'll definitely be there. It's going to be crazy.
> 
> There was a bit of French in here (I realized how rusty I am with the language), so for those of you unfamiliar with it, the translations are:
> 
> Non, je ne l’aime pas: No, I don't like it  
> Mais: But  
> Rouge signifie puissance, et avec l'or et le bleu, c'est...: Red signifies power, and with gold and blue, it's--  
> écoute-moi. Je connais la mode. Et ce n'est pas la mode: Listen to me. I know fashion. And this isn't fashion.  
> Désolée: Sorry  
> Pas de masques. Je veux faire un déclaration de mode: No masks. I want to make a fashion statement.  
> J'ai une bonne idée: I have a good idea  
> Vraiment: Truly  
> Est-ce que vous voulez une omelette du fromage?" Would you like a cheese omelet?  
> Putain: Bitch  
> Merde: Shit  
> Zut: Darn  
> Va te faire foutre: Fuck you
> 
> And for those of you who haven't read "It Was a Long Story," there's a chapter depicting what happened when Alaran was in Halamshiral prior to the Inquisition. http://archiveofourown.org/works/5234606/chapters/17825140
> 
> Hope everyone is staying lovely!


	59. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Farts, Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al goes to Halamshiral

Back straight, eyes bright, jaw slightly tilted upwards, the ghost of a smirk across my painted lips. Walking lightly, moving fluidly, making it look like carrying the world on my squared shoulders was easy. The only physical thing on my face were my polished spectacles. Hair braided and bound and set atop my head, kohl and starlight dusted across my eyelashes and eyelids.

I was the Inquisitor. I was fearless. I was unconquerable.

Grand Duke Gaspard took my hand and bent low to kiss it, making sure all could see his hospitality and graciousness towards me. I bet it was just making his stomach _churn_ to kiss the flesh of an elf. “Inquisitor Lavellan,” he greeted. “It is an honor.”

“Again, we thank you for your invitation,” I said in the same tone he was using. The fake one, the guarded one, the political one. “The Inquisition is honored to be here, as well.”

We started walking through the pavilion complete with excessive gold statues and fountains. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me behind gilded and porcelain masks, all watching and waiting to see the Inquisition fail. To see me fail.

Lol. That wouldn’t happen.

“The rumors coming out of the Western Approach say you battled an army of demons,” Gaspard said, gearing up for a pitch. “Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais.”

I looked at him and knowingly smirked. Men didn’t like it when women looked at them like that. “And which one _was_ the rightful one, again? I keep getting them confused.”

Gaspard, for the shriveled dick he was, wholesomely laughed and provided a slight bow. “The handsome, charming one of course, my lady.” He stopped us right in front of the main fountain, where the floor seemed to be inlaid with caprice coins tossed by frivolous nobles going back generations. _Shit, I hated this place._ “I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I’ll help you.”

“I do not doubt it, my lord.” We began walking again so Gaspard could continue to flaunt me.

“My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age.”

_Yeah, the story titled, “How Alaran Lavellan Managed to Punch the Teeth Out of Every Orlesian at the Winter Palace: An Autobiography.” Or something like that._

But instead of starting on that autobiography, I said, “I can’t imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in their entire lives.”

“You’re a woman after my own heart, my lady.”

**_Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you—_ **

“As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening.” Gaspard’s tone was the same and yet entirely different.

_Oh ho ho? What do you want me to get my grubby little paws into on your behalf, you shit-eating chevalier?_

“This elven woman Briala—I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these “ambassadors” all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.”

I calculatedly raised a quizzical brow and timed the brief pause of consideration. Short enough to be decisive, long enough to make Gaspard wonder. Then I gave a small nod and said, “Though the information you’ve given is painfully vague, it may be important enough to look into. Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor. Be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains.”

_Um. Okay. That was actually a very accurate statement?_

I should have just left it at that. I really should have.

Leaning in conspiratorially, I said, “Is it difficult for you, Grand Duke? To stand beside me?”

He chuckled and asked, “And why would that be a difficult thing for me to do, Inquisitor?”

“Well, aren’t I considered a lesser creature?”

My unexpected comment threw him off. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

I appeared puzzled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but was it not you who had a scientific book published correlating elves to rabbits, thus proving how unevolved we are? _My_ people?” The question was put so lightly and conversationally that Gaspard wasn’t sure how to react for a few moments. Eventually he came up with a response, but wasn’t prepared for my sudden, unwavering scrutiny all while maintaining a smile.

“I assure you, Inquisitor, I do not—”

“Please, my lord, do not pander. I thought you were an honorable man.” My smile was gone in a flash, voice turning soft, dangerous. “And do not, for one second, believe that you can sway me just by making mediocre promises and demonstrating a show of force. Neither am I a woman who forgets her friends. Or her enemies.” I smiled again and relaxed back into my former posture. “You’d do well to remember that.” I graciously dipped my head and said, “We shall see each other in half an hour, yes? For the grand entrance.”

“Of course.”

Gaspard probably shouldn’t have asked me to look into his little “elf” problem.

Whether he was intimidated or not was unclear; either way, we respectfully departed from one another so I could mingle with other nobles who wanted to either fawn over me or snub their noses my way. As I strolled, I picked up on some nasty, delicious secrets and rumors I couldn’t wait to tell Leliana when I met with her again. A few times I saw some of the Inner Circle—and by that, I mean I spotted Vivienne, Josephine, Dorian, and Varric flourishing in the midst of new and masked faces. The rest were M.I.A., meaning that they were probably ushered off to the side by Josie until later notice.

“You there! Rabbit! Rabbit!”

The pavilion seemed to quiet as I was roughly tapped on the shoulder. _Oh, this was going to be **gold.**_ “I’ve seemed to have lost something—”

I half-tilted my head over my shoulder so the woman who thought I was a servant (a _servant_ dressed in a _suit,_ for hell’s sake) could see who I actually was. A flawless smile that didn’t meet my eyes made her audibly squeak. “Oh! Y-you’re the I-I-Inquisitor! I apologize—”

“Lady D’Alazon,” Vivienne called as she glided over, looking as badass as I did in our Inquisition uniforms. She wore a complementing Orlesian hennin that glistened in the moonlight pallor. I felt stronger with the enchantress at my side; we were both powerful women who amplified the other’s intimidation levels until it made knees tremble and speeches falter. “My dear, haven’t you already insulted enough people simply by wearing that ghastly outfit? It was considered a dismal style even when its fashion surfaced from the depths of Orzammar; I can only imagine what people are saying about it, now.”

“What have you lost, my lady?” I politely questioned. Lady D’Alazon opened and closed her mouth a few times before she became capable of answering.

“A-a ring—an heirloom.”

“Oh? Perhaps you should look in one of the fountains? A serving elf probably tossed it in there, wishing for something unfortunate to befall upon you because you called them a ‘rabbit.’” Despite the half-mask covering the noblewoman’s face, there was no way her blush could be entirely hidden.

“Come, Inquisitor; there are far more important, refined people to meet.”

And with that Madame de Fer and I unironically sashayed away. “Tread lightly, dear Alaran,” she advised. “I would hate to come to your aid again.”

I kept from rolling my eyes at her, knowing that Vivienne could hardly say a sentence without it being backhanded. That was just her way. “Thank you, Vivienne. You are truly a magnificent woman.”

She lightly laughed. “I know. As are you.”

It was my turn to chuckle. “I know.”

-

Josephine pulled me aside as we waited to enter the Grand Hall. “Inquisitor, a moment, if you please?” Her face didn’t display anxiety, but was still rather serious. I didn’t blame her. She probably developed an ulcer worrying about how I was going to act or say once we got here. “I must warn you before you go inside: how you speak to the court is a matter of life and death. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness.”

Though a witty retort was on the tip of my tongue, I didn’t want to make Josephine’s stomach bleed. So instead I nodded understandingly and said, “I’ll keep my guard up.”

“The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards.” Before I could open my mouth, Josephine foresaw what I was going to say and beat me to it. “And yes, you are good at Wicked Grace, but so is every single other person here tonight. And they are all as ruthless cheaters as you. Be mindful of that. When you meet the empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you.” A half-smile lifted the corner of her lip. “You were safer in the Fade with the fear demon.”

I placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. “And remember what I did to that thing?”

“And yet, unfortunately, you cannot kill every single person here no matter how much you wish you could. But, though you may find it hard to believe, there _are_ some allies to be obtained. Try not to make more enemies than there already are.”

I motioned for her to take a deep breath with me. She did, then glanced over me one last time and straightened the Inquisition’s sigil pinned above my breast. “Everything will be fine.”

But as I walked ahead of her to rejoin with Grand Duke Gaspard, I heard her mutter under her breath, “Andraste watch over us all.”

_Andraste is probably laughing her holy ass off right now._

The ballroom was layered with the scent of perfumes and floral arrangements. As soon as I stepped through the doors with Gaspard with the Inner Circle behind us, every head visibly turned. We descended the steps together that led onto the ballroom floor while our names and titles were announced.

Gaspard chuckled loudly enough for me to hear as we started walking forward. “Do you see their faces? Priceless.”

But I was only looking at one face. One silver-masked face on the other end of the ballroom, standing on a higher floor that overlooked the sunken area.

Empress Celene Valmont the First, The Ruler of Orlais, The Lioness.

My heartbeat quickened, but there was no tremble to my body. I had planned, prepared, prayed for this moment since the day I awoke to find that thousands had been consumed by fire.

Was what I was about to do considered revenge?

Fuck. Yes.

-

_Florianne is up to something._

_Everybody is up to something, really._

_Look at Leliana, being shady as fuck. The occult adviser sounds suspiciously like Varryn’s babe. Eh. Whatevs._

_Good thing I wore the footwraps so I could scale that fucking lattice. Cut my damn palm on a thorn._

_Even better that Dorian and Varric distracted everyone in the area while I did so. Who knew the Tevinter was a great shadow puppeteer?_

_Despair Ham made me gassy. Trying not to have a fart attack right now. Should I crop dust? Crop dust._

_Elves don’t even trust me. Can’t trust anyone. Recognize some faces from the fire. Survivors. Serving those who would see them dead rather than liberated._

_Can’t pick my wedgie every fifteen seconds._

_Sera is bonding with Cole by pranking and freaking out nobles, at least._

_Cassandra and Cullen are about ready to book it out of here._

_Solas is reliving his glory days. Looks like a fucking dweeb with that Hershey’s Kiss hat. Ha! I’m funny._

_Ugh what is that woman wearing I just wanna scream “What are thoooooooose??!!”_

_Where the fuck is Blackwall?_

_Don’t ask me to dance don’t ask me to dance oh well they asked me to dance time to step on some little man toes._

_Meep morp I’m a damn gleep glorp_

_Wave at Comte Aurelian and his wife, exchange a few words. They’re good people. Helped the Inquisition in the Western Approach._

_Wait, was that the second bell? Crap crap crap crap wish speed walking looked cool._

_…Standing in the rain, with his head hung low, couldn’t get a ticket, it was a sold out show. Heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene, put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream…He heard one guitar, just blew him away, he saw stars in his eyes, and the very next day…Bought a beat up six string…dum dum dum dumdumdum da dum **Juke Box Hero, he’s a juke box hero—**_

“Well, well, what have we here?”

The signature, unforgettable voice made me come to a stop. I turned on my heels and looked back to the stairs I had just come down from. Silhouetted by the moonlight that washed through large, paned windows, a raven-haired woman descended the steps. She was dressed in an exquisite, dark red gown embellished with gold. A large, strange, witchy necklace collared her neck. Yellow eyes kept me pinned to the spot.

I couldn’t help but slyly smirk. “Inquisitor Alaran Lavellan,” Morrigan purred in her low, silken voice. “Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself.” Every word dripped with an aged sarcasm. _Did she know that Varryn and I had a run-in? That I was an Otherworlder?_ “What could bring such an _exalted creature_ here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do you even know?”

Folding my arms, I easily replied, “We may never know. Courtly intrigues and all that.”

Morrigan stopped in front of me. The area had mysteriously cleared of people who had a semblance of common sense; nobody wanted to get in the way of the Witch of the Wilds. “Such intrigues obscure much, but not all.” She dipped her head. “I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.” Motioning for me to walk with her, Morrigan murmured, “You…have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

My eyes narrowed for a split second before I masked the instinctive suspicion. Morrigan was on our side. Right? “I don’t know,” I answered. “Do we?”

Morrigan laughed low in her throat. “You are being coy.”

“I’m being careful.”

“Not unwise, here of all places. Allow me to speak first, then. Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor: a key found on the Tevinter’s body.” Morrigan reached down into the top part of her corset and produced a plain brass key. I took it and discreetly placed the object into a pocket hidden by the silver sash I wore. “Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.” _Would she defend Celene if it came to it? Shit. Don’t know._ “Briala’s people are whispering about disappearances in the servants’ quarters. This key may lead there. The ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not?” Morrigan grabbed my chin, warm fingers tingling with magic that slid off my skin. I couldn’t be sure if she meant to do that or not. But for some reason I stood still while she did it. “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter.” Her smile was vulpine and beautiful. “What comes next will be most exciting.”

Now wasn’t the time to blurt out everything I knew about Morrigan, her relationship with Varryn, and the child they had together. Perhaps later, if all turned out the way I wanted. The Hero did say that she and Kieran would be coming to Skyhold—perhaps it was after these events? And why would she be offering her assistance to the Inquisition in the first place? Varryn never really specified.

But I’d think about that later. I had stuff to get done.

-

I pressed a foot on the corpse of the harlequin I skewered and pulled my greatsword out. Though some of the Inner Circle and I had stripped our uniforms off so blood wouldn’t get on it, we weren’t wearing our proper armor. But, since I was the only warrior in the group, I was the only one who needed to worry about the up-and-front fighting for the most part. In place of boots I wore familiar and comfortable footwraps, leggings, and a fitted tunic. It was somewhat of a thrill to go into a fight without any armor; reminded me of the good ol’ days.

“Hey, Quizzy,” Sera said, jerking her head to the left end of the hallway, “somebody’s coming.” She knocked her bow drew it back. I looked her way and adjusted my glasses so I could see.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Dorian muttered with a snort as we watched a masked elven woman approach.

I straightened and, though I didn’t brandish my sword, neither did I sheathe it. “Fancy meeting you here,” Briala said as she stepped over corpses. Blood soaked her footwraps, reminding me that my feet were covered in the same. I hadn’t seen the ambassador all night, meaning that it was no coincidence we were meeting now. “Inquisitor Lavellan. Slumming it up in the servants’ quarters with the rest of your people for once?” Briala stopped and leaned on a pillar that wasn’t sprayed with blood.

My face remained neutral, even though her comment spiked my anger. She was testing, trying to rile me. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Briala knew where I came from and what I had done prior to getting a piece of the Fade on my hand. “Want me to stick an arrow in her?” Sera questioned, temper unchecked.

“No,” I replied, not looking away from the Orlesian elf. “Not just yet.”

Briala smiled. “We haven’t been properly introduced, have we? I’m Ambassador Briala.”

“And whose ambassador are you, exactly?” I had to ask, playing into the back-and-forth.

“If the nobility is going to treat elves as if we are not citizens, we may as well have the trappings of a foreign power.” Dorian made a noise at her answer but nothing else. I started walking forward, gesturing for Briala to follow me out onto a side balcony that didn’t reek with blood and human waste. She joined my side. I was taller than she, but I could immediately tell the ambassador had a body meant for stealth and swiftness. “You cleaned this place out,” she remarked. “It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble.”

“What are you doing in these parts?” I inquired.

“I came down to save or avenge my missing people, but you’ve beaten me to it.”

My expression took on a grimmer shade. “We weren’t quick enough.”

“And yet you’ve still saved numerous lives. We thank you for that.” Briala leaned on the marble balustrade and took a breath. “So…the Council of Heralds’ emissary in the courtyard…that’s not your work, is it?”

I tilted my head a fraction, debating on whether or not to give a straightforward answer. After a moment, I said, “No.”

“I thought not. You may have arrived with the grand duke, but you don’t seem to be doing his dirty work. I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace? Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight.”

My lips pushed to the side. “I just have a feeling that he’s not behind this. The man isn’t trustworthy, but I’ve studied his style. This doesn’t seem like him.”

Briala gave a nod in agreement, but played the side of skepticism. “Don’t let his charm blind you. He’s Orlesian. That smile is his mask.”

I stood beside Briala and looked at the paved, darkened ground below. Her people were already covering the area, checking the dead and making sure the area was secured. My heart suddenly ached. “I have a perfect memory,” I found myself saying. Briala angled her head my way but said nothing. “Meaning that even if I sometimes forget names—and I rarely do—I always remember faces. And the faces of these servants? I recognize them from my time spent here in Halamshiral. Both the living and the dead. The fire that swept through the slums, ambassador? I _carried_ some of these people out of their burning homes while the rest of their family perished. And now they’re dead on the ground, killed by the same type of people.” My fists clenched and I faced Briala. She blinked, surprised at how intense and resolute I looked. “Save your sales pitch, ambassador. You are backed by the Inquisition. Provide us with your network of spies, and we’ll provide you with much more.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I firmly cut her off. “But you must promise me one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Those who have known about your former affair with Empress Celene have slowly been picked off one by one, simply because of their knowledge. People who trust and rely on you. That ends right now. You will be serving under the Inquisition from here on out; needless deaths are unacceptable.”

“Understood.”

“Is it? You have a penchant for disregarding rules.”

Briala wryly smiled. “I feel that’s a tad ironic coming from you, Inquisitor.”

I humorlessly gazed back at her. “Don’t push your luck, ambassador.”

“Wouldn’t dare think of it.”

Briala and I parted ways. The ambassador practically parkoured down the balcony and lower balustrades until she reached the ground. I watched her land before turning back to my companions. Sera had just finished looting through the Vint corpses while Dorian examined another small halla statue he had found. Cole meandered down the hall a few feet away, fingers trailing across the ancient walls. I wondered what he was sensing.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, realizing that some of the fancy coils had come undone. Blegh. I just needed to chop all my hair off. Maybe after Halamshiral I’d cut it. “Let’s get out of here,” I sighed. “The night isn’t over just yet.”

“Though I wish it were,” Dorian said. “Orlesians just suck the life out of everything.”

We walked down onto the dimly-lit pathway. Briala’s people watched us with reflected eyes and stoic expressions as they stalked the shadows. There was something tense in the air, something barely bridled and contained. Something very, very angry. Not towards me or the Inquisition—towards the Winter Palace. It _was_ the Winter Palace.

The elves owned this place. I thought that they were still broken, still reeling from the crushed, attempted rebellion all those years ago. That they desperately needed the Inquisition’s help, because we were the only ones who could help them.

I was wrong.

They were already on the rise again, ready to attack Orlais at the weakest it had been in years. The civil war distracted from their quiet, steady uprising. If we didn’t intervene and offer stability, they would undoubtedly strike again. And again, it would result in their deaths and suffering. But they would do it nonetheless. Because oppression bred resistance. And history had shown that elves could resist just about anything.

Briala didn’t just need the Inquisition. The Inquisition needed _her._ Because she had an army lying in wait, ready to destroy those who had wronged them.

My teeth gritted together as I kept from thinking about the implications of underestimating the underestimated.

We quickly dressed ourselves in our uniforms again and melded back into the crowd as inconspicuously as we could, though I was sure that at least a dozen spies saw us come back from the servants’ quarters. Oh well.

As soon as I stepped through the doors to the ballroom, Grand Duchess Florianne was there to cut me off from the beeline I was making to Leliana. Of course. “Inquisitor Lavellan?” She graciously curtseyed. “We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party.”

I put on an amused smile and said, “Why am I not at all surprised that you want to see me now?”

She returned the smile with her own. “This is Orlais, Inquisitor. Nothing happens by accident.” _True enough._ “I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of a…certain person.” _Yeah. Yeah. You and every other person in this forsaken palace who thinks ruffles are a good look._ “Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.”

There was barely a moment’s pause on my part. This was a golden opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. _Don’t look like a jackass out there, okay?_ “Very well,” I said, taking the Grand Duchess’ hand and raising it. “Shall we dance, Your Grace?”

“I’d be delighted.”

The court was sent into a tizzy as they saw Florianne and I get into dancing positions on the floor. My eyes caught the glimpse of royal blue, and they flickered up to see Empress Celene regarding the dance. Regarding me. Did she know? Probably not.

Florianne whispered complicated intrigues to me while we spun around the ballroom. I had to forego my prior training and reverted to a loose, intense waltz. It was a power play just in Florianne’s and my footsteps to see who could keep up with the other after abandoning proper dance etiquette. A few times I nearly got tripped up under her gown, but we were moving so swiftly that an error looked purposeful. I wasn’t sure how long the entire dance lasted, but when the music finally hit a crescendo I dipped Florianne low to the ground, listening to the last bit of information she had for me. Yeah, no, she was up to something bad. Nobody here ever gave away things willy-nilly.

Florianne and I received thunderous applause as we bowed to each other. “We’ll see what the night has in store, won’t we?” Florianne said as I turned to walk away. I only half-turned to her and graciously nodded.

“We shall, Your Grace.”

The woman smirked as though she had won a battle. I would have been perturbed had I not been giving the same type of smirk.

Hips swaying, footsteps light, eyes watchful, I ascended the staircase and was immediately hit with half a dozen sycophants praising my performance. _Assholes. All of them. Except maybe Comtesse Bellegarde. She’s just a little vapid. Josephine’s coming my way with Cullen in tow. Good. Where’s Leliana? Gotta slide away from these creepers so I can speak with them—_

A light hand touched my shoulder. “Inquisitor Lavellan,” said another heavily, too-sweetly accented voice. I glanced up and saw that it was one of Empress Celene’s handmaidens. The small crowd around me coincidentally dispersed. “Her Highness would like to speak with you? In private.”

Something in my body cracked. The world seemed to turn into ecstasy-fueled blurs. Colors merged and melted together, and the music playing slowed to the rhythm of my footsteps as I followed the handmaiden to the private balcony where Empress Celene waited. Amidst the indistinct ocean of people parting for us, Leliana was a clear and solid figure, light blue eyes piercing me as I passed. Then she was gone, returning to the kaleidoscope of colors. It was as if I had never left the opium den on one of the lower levels of the palace, where nobles gathered to escape from the Game and reality. Every tense muscle in my body vanished as soon as the handmaiden gestured for me to accompany her; I was walking on goose down, sinking and swirling—

As soon as I stepped onto the ornate terrace and saw a woman garbed in royal blue did my senses jarringly snap back into place. Empress Celene stood from the private dining table she was seated at to greet me. Two elven servants silently waited in the corner between the terrace and the palace wall, altogether forgotten by their ruler.

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” Celene spoke as she came forward to clasp my hand. Her fingers were cold.

“Your Highness,” I returned. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

She waved to a chair at the table. “Come. Sit with me. I have not had the honor of speaking with you personally.”

We moved to sit. Before I could pull out my chair on my own, the servants came forward to pull them out for the empress and me. While Celene didn’t seem to notice their existence, my eyes flickered to the servant nearest to me. She was young; eighteen, maybe nineteen. Brown eyes. Freckles spattering across her cheekbones. Mousy hair.

Her gaze met mine for a moment before it was cast back down.

I looked to Celene again. She sat at the head of the table while I was angled to her left, meaning my back was to the entryway. If I was to be assassinated, now would be a prime opportunity.

“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Celene inquired as she idly sipped on a glass of dark wine.

“As much as anyone can during such difficult times as these.” I replied.

“I understand. The civil war has everyone on edge, and with the threat of Corypheus to add to it…well, I must commend your valor and resilience. You stand in the face of adversity and come out victorious each day.”

She took another sip while I waited for her to speak again, choosing to remain quiet on my part. “So, Inquisitor, I assume I’m not wrong in believing you have plans to put into play here concerning the civil war.”

“I do, Your Highness.”

Celene’s head tilted a fraction, silver mask glinting in the moonlight. “The nation of Orlais would greatly appreciate whatever input you might have on how to assist it. Would it be too much to ask to hear your thoughts?”

The hint of a smile curled up my lip. “Very well. I would have Orlais united. If it stays divided much longer, Corypheus will surely conquer it. He already has roots in several lands. And, if I’m not mistaken, here at the Winter Palace itself.”

Celene deigned to show a small fraction of amusement. “That I do not doubt. Yet there is only one way to unite Orlais and end the root of the war. Select one ruler, and one ruler alone.”

My smile only grew. “We can stop speaking in circles, empress. I enjoy participating in the Game, but I’m tiring of its repetitiveness. You wish to know who I support as the rightful ruler.”

She wasn’t fazed by my statement. “Yes. Would you back the Usurper, a man who intends to invade Ferelden and other nations for the sake of power? And who would eventually turn on the Inquisition? Or would you back the woman who has united two great countries and would ally herself with your organization to further supply stability and humanitarian aid?”

I trailed a finger across the pristine white tablecloth. “You make a valid point, empress. Gaspard is not a man to be trusted or respected.” My eyes lifted to hers, breath hot on my lips. “And neither are you.”

Celene hadn’t been expecting my sudden shift in mood, but she remained poised and controlled. “Empress Celene, I don’t believe you’ve heard about how I received scars on the bottoms of my feet.” I shifted in my chair but neither moved forward or backward. “The incident happened a few years back, when I was working at a clinic I set up through my own funds and some third-party beneficiaries. What I saw there was not unusual for the area; sexually transmitted diseases, infections, broken bones, and childbirths are what one normally sees during the day. During the night, though, I tended to more serious problems such as weapon-related injuries, beaten faces, and victims of rape.

“One day a pair of elven brothers came into my clinic, seeking medical relief after being beaten by a chevalier. It wasn’t the first time this chevalier had targeted elves; such a thing is normal routine for them. The elves, after all, are practically voiceless. And with the rioting going on, it wasn’t unusual to be singled out and taught a lesson. I’ve sported a few black eyes and bloody knuckles from scuffles with them more than once. But hurting me is one thing. Hurting children who probably won’t live to adulthood? Running down women with babes? Killing men on their way to work themselves to death? I didn’t stand for it then, and I don’t stand for it now.

“So, true to my nature, I went out to end this chevalier’s life. Ayer, was it? Yes. He had nice blue eyes.” Celene’s face twitched. “Ah, so you remember him?”

“He was a respected and well-trained chevalier. Numerous men had been trained by him.” She didn’t seem angered by my confession, nor afraid.

“Well. He wasn’t respected by me. After the family I was staying with fell asleep, I broke his sword and drove my own into his gut. Not the first chevalier I had killed, and certainly not the last.” I pushed my glasses up simply out of habit. “Before Ayer died, he laughed and told me that all of us elves would burn. I was going to move his body to High Quarters so there wouldn’t be a purge in punishment for his death. But, come to find out, trying to avoid a purge wasn’t necessary. Because one was already occurring.”

Though a smirk still played on my lips, my eyes were cold and sharp. Celene’s throat bobbed up and down. “I ran back to the other end of the slums to find that half of it was already engulfed in flames higher than this palace. Have you heard the sounds of thousands of people being burned alive, Empress Celene? I imagine so. The screams of the elves echoed across this city.

“I saved as many people as I could, risking my own life by venturing into buildings already half-gone. Despite my efforts, I was only able to rescue seven people. Still, three of them died. The fire was so hot that it made the pavement sizzle. That, combined with the roasting floorboards I repeatedly walked on, turned the bottoms of my feet into nothing but mottled flesh. The pain and smoke inhalation became so great that I lost consciousness. When I awoke, I found that a majority of the slums had been reduced to nothing but ashen, skeletal rubble. I’m not much of a storyteller, so I’ll spare you the details of the aftermath. Of how the elven family I had been staying with had been killed, save for a four-year-old boy and his one-armed uncle. Of how soot-smeared children screamed for parents that would never come for them. Of how sickness swept through as swiftly as the fire. Of how they were ignored and forgotten, just as they always have.”

My face shattered into predatory viciousness. “Of how I _vowed_ revenge on the monster who gave the orders to wipe out thousands.” A harsh, humorless chuckle. “And here you sit.”

Celene was anything but flustered. “And here I sit,” she coolly said. “I am sorry for what you had to experience. But we all have had to do unsavory things in our positions; do not pretend that you would not do the same. When you face an uprising and the collapse of your city, sometimes harsh methods are necessary to maintain order.”

“Do not pretend that what you had to do was _necessary._ I remember why the riots started, how that play of Andraste and Shartan represented you and Briala. You didn’t deal with a problem; you avoided it by ending the ones who needed your help the most. Tell me: how can that possibly go by unpardoned?”

The faint wrinkle lines around Celene’s mouth tightened as she realized that things weren’t going the way she intended. After a few seconds of intense silence, she breathed a mirthless laugh. “My court spoke of your idealistic views and the ruthless ways of enacting them. Your character has not been disappointing. Even now you speak of vengeance portrayed as justice, and consider the actions of others evil while you disregard your own. So when some upstart founded by fanatics confronts and condemns your past decisions, I hope you find it as amusing as I do, now.”

“This upstart has brought stability across Thedas. This upstart is making changes to create a better world.” My jaw was clenched but words flowed smoothly.

“A better world for whom? For you? Change does not come peacefully, Inquisitor. It comes brutally. And by the end of it all, you will view yourself the same way you view me. Hypocrisy often goes unnoticed, but I believe you’re intelligent enough to see it riddled through your soul. Not now, perhaps, but soon enough.”

I flashed another smirk and shifted in my seat. “I wonder, Celene, if you speak from experience, or if you speak because you have no idea what it actually feels like. But, you do make a point of me being ruthless. I have no tolerance for those who support systematic oppression and benefit from a society that favors solely the rich. Is that such a terrible thing?”

“Not all see it that way.”

I couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Who? The oppressors and the rich?”

“You intend to crush the crushers. I understand. You are not the first to try and do so. It proves worthwhile…for a time. But history is not kind. It will treat you the same as it has everyone else—unfairly.”

“History records unfairness; it does not incite.”

Celene breathed a terse sigh. “You remain adamant. It reminds me of a time when I held such beliefs.”

“Yeah. Then you went and committed regicide.” In a blatantly sarcastic tone, I added, “Forgive me; I keep bringing that subject up often because, well, _I believe_ that the murder of thousands is something that shouldn’t be overlooked. And, if I may speak freely—”

“It is the only thing you have done tonight—”

“If you truly wanted this Civil War to end, you would have had Gaspard assassinated a long time ago. Yet you keep him alive, setting him up as the enemy of Orlais so you can create an altruistic persona. But you are as despicable and corrupt as he.” I fluidly stood while Celene stayed seated. “And, like Gaspard, you are alone. In this palace, in this nation. Do you think the people fight because they love you? They fight because they know that they’ll die even if they don’t. They fight because their families are scared, because _they_ are scared. You have spread fear in the name of patriotism across Orlais for too long.”

I placed a hand on the back of Celene’s chair and leaned forward so I my face hovered a few inches away from hers. She did not flinch. “I _will_ unite Orlais, for I am changing Thedas. And you, Celene? You have no place in the new world.”

“They will destroy you,” Celene hissed back, voice betraying the unafraid expression she wore under her mask. “You are as alone as the rest of us.”

I turned my head to the two serving elves trembling in the corner. Fire shone in their eyes. Celene followed my gaze and became very still. “No. I am not.”

With that, I straightened and departed from the balcony.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a LONG time. It's still not completely perfect for me, but I doubt it ever will be. And so much is happening that I ~reluctantly~ had to split the time at Halamshiral into separate parts. But the next chapter is coming soon, I promise!
> 
> I always love getting to write Al's inner thoughts. They're all over the place. I tried making this chapter (and the next) sort-of amped up because there are so many pivotal things going on, so I made a YouTube playlist with music that got me in the right mood. If y'all wanna check it out, it's right here at www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmasJ9-CieqhBoPg7ZTy7ss067c4GC5U6 
> 
> Hope everyone is doing great! Tell me if you liked this chapter.


	60. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Farts, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al gets through the rest of the night

I needed to see if I could get anything on Gaspard. If I was going to do what I intended, then a heavy-handed blackmail strategy was required.

Getting the soldiers guarding Gaspard’s trophy room out of the way was easy. As soon as I mentioned Cullen’s name to them and how he’d be willing to share war stories, they scurried off like little fanboys going to see their idol. Couldn’t blame them. Cullen was arguably more popular than I was here. Once they were out of sight, I placed a few halla statues in their slots to open the door and quietly slipped in. Only the serving elves saw me, and they pointedly looked away from my endeavor.

A grimace immediately twisted my face as I beheld the dozens of posing, taxidermized animals. Such a fucking disgrace. What did this ever prove? That Gaspard was such a despicable human being that he’d have fennecs and snoufleurs stuffed and mounted on his walls?

I tore my eyes away from the animals so I could focus on finding something that was worthwhile. There was a second door I could get past, and it wasn’t even locked—

Something…strange caught my eye. I looked to my right, a few feet above from where I stood. There was…it was a _head…_ I recognized…

 _“What in the ever-loving fuck?”_ I whispered to myself as I beheld a massive krogan head mounted on the wall. There was no mistaking it. That was a fucking krogan head. A krogan. As in, an alien from _Mass Effect._ As in, from another video game. As in, Bioware-related. As in, _fuck._

But if it came from _Mass Effect_ and that game had an Earth and it wasn’t mine but it _was_ an Earth then there was a Shepard and aliens and a different dimension that had _Earth_ in it and fuck this thing didn’t just come from a different dimension it came from a _parallel_ dimension but if it came from the same outer space that Thedas shared then that meant there might be an Earth here—

I braced a hand against the doorframe and stifled the urge to vomit. There was no way, _no way—_

But there was.

After a few moments of battling intense nausea, I took a large, deep breath and forced myself to stop thinking about what this could mean. Like, _holy shit_ this could mean a lot of things. But—but I was here in the present, and being in the present meant I needed to complete the task I gave myself. _Worry about it later, shove it down, don’t freak out. Freaking out means you lose. Ask Hallah. No. Deal with Hana first. Then ask Hallah. Possibly punch, if she’ll let me. Fuck._

Ya know, I was prepared for a lot of things that would or wouldn’t happen tonight.

This… _this_ wasn’t one of them.

Despite dealing with a severe case of the shakes, I easily found orders entailing Gaspard’s plans to sneak mercenaries into the Winter Palace. I quickly bundled the parchment and stuffed it into an inner parchment before hightailing it out of there.

A fucking _krogan—_

_Nope. Nope. Don’t fucking think about it—_

A hand placing itself on my shoulder made me spin around and grab for the perpetrator’s collar. “Alaran—” Solas choked, surprised by my sudden animosity. He had rounded up Sera and Cassandra so the four of us could sneak through the palace in hopes of finding out what the hell was going on. Though I had sealed Celene’s fate, the threat of Corypheus still loomed over Orlais. If we let our guard down, he would grip the heart of this struggling nation and crush it from within.

I was half-tempted to let him. But the nobility I had the unfortunate experience of meeting did not reflect the people of the nation. I couldn’t fail them.

“Solas,” I breathed, miserably failing my attempt to act like things were perfectly normal. His brows drew together.

“What is wrong?”

“You look…whiter than normal,” Sera said seriously.

“I…it’s—we’ll discuss it later,” I managed to sputter out. “Right now we have an empire to save.”

They all gave me weird looks. I wasn’t easily perturbed, so to see me in such a state at a critical point in time was a little unnerving on both sides. Quickly irritated by my disjointedness, I tore my greatsword out of Cassandra’s hands and strapped it to my back. “Let’s go,” I growled.

“But our armor—”

“I said _let’s go.”_

As the three followed, I heard Sera not-so-quietly mumble under her breath, “What’s up her fockin ass?”

_The thought that I’m in a parallel dimension that could possibly have an Earth, that’s what. I think that’s a cause for flipping the eff out._

-

 _“Argh,”_ I grimaced as I examined the rather long gash on my leg dealt by a shade. None of us had health potions on us because the fight was so sudden and unexpected. It was something I should have remembered, but because I was so put off by what happened earlier I hadn’t been thinking straight. Stupid, stupid.

“Your wound needs binding,” Cassandra said, wiping ichor off her forehead.

“Here,” said the mercenary captain we saved and recruited, limping forward with a torn piece of cloth. “It’s not much, but it’ll do.”

“Thanks,” I breathed, grabbing it and hastily wrapping it around my leg. The black fabric of my trousers hid the blood, but our uniforms were still seriously stained. Another mistake on my part. We should have grabbed our armor, grabbed more back-up. Shit. I couldn’t be shaken like this again. Not when too much was at stake.

“We must hurry,” Solas said, face solemn as he cast his eyes to the cloudy night. “Can you walk, Alaran?”

“I can limp,” I replied, stiffly walking forward.

“You need a healing potion.”

“Oh, let me just check my butthole for one,” I sarcastically muttered. Sera giggled, but Cassandra and Solas only looked at me more seriously. “Wow, just kidding, I’m not actually going to check my butthole. It wouldn’t be practical to store one there, anyways.”

Sera and Solas let me but my arms over their shoulders while Cassandra took up position as front guard. I was bleeding—bleeding more than I cared to admit. Red smeared across the marble that we walked on, and just for a second I wished I could be affected by magic. Then I would have gotten healed like the rest.

And did I mention that it _hurt?_ No, it wasn’t the worst wound I’ve ever had, but still. It was a bleeder.

“You sure you gonna be okay?” Sera cautiously asked as we climbed up the stairs to the grand ballroom. What was going to happen next, I didn’t know. I just had a feeling that it was going to be…big.

“Yeah,” I grunted. “Hey, you have a knife on you, right?”

“Always,” she snorted.

“I’m going to need to borrow one. Just in case.”

“Don’t you have any of your own?” The question wasn’t sarcastic; Sera knew I was a proficient rogue and carried daggers on me most times.

“I left it in a Venatori. Forgot to pick it out.”

Sera slid out from under my arm and picked a dagger hidden under her waistband. She tucked it into mine. “Be careful with it, yeah? Don’t like my stuff messed up by others.”

“I’ll try,” I huffed with a feigned laugh.  “Thank you.”

Sera bit the bottom of her lower lip, something flickering across her face. “Ally...what’re—what’re you gonna do?”

I glanced at her. “I’m going to change some stuff, Sera.”

A moment of silence. We were nearing the doors to the ballroom. “Just remember to keep the little people in mind, yeah? Sometimes you get kinda…scary. I’m not always sure where you’re headed with things.”

“Sera,” I grunted, sliding my other arm from Solas’ shoulders, “if I ever forget about the little people, punch me in the tit.”

She grinned. “Ya swear?”

“I swear.” I readjusted my greatsword and fixed my glasses. Thrusting my shoulders back, I said, “Fan out when we get in there. Make sure the Inquisition soldiers are safe and out of harm’s way. Should anything go awry, I want all of you there at the ready.”

“Got it.”

The breath I took wasn’t as steady as I wanted it to be, but I flashed a smirk anyways and pretended like I had everything under control. “Shall we?”

-

Cullen rushed forward to greet me as soon as he saw us slip through the heavy door. The three companions quickly dispersed, leaving just the two of us. Everybody in the area would have flocked to me, but they were all focused on the “peace talks” that would begin any moment.

My eyes scanned the area. Josephine and Leliana were on the opposite sides of the floor, both with an array of the Inner Circle around them. Soon they’d be taking up places around the ballroom with the small squadron of Inquisition soldiers we brought with us. “Thank the Maker you’re back!” Cullen fervently spoke as he approached me. “The empress—” His eyes went down to the knotted cloth around my leg and sticky stains of blood rimming my boot. Concern visibly appeared on his face, but he made no move to coddle me. “You’re injured, Alaran.”

“All I need is a damn health potion and I’ll be fine. You got one on you?”

The commander grumbled a bit, but fished out a small vial from an inner pocket of his navy-blue suit. I made a face as I took it. “Really? This is all you have on you?”

“Forgive me for not equipping the gallon-sized ones you typically do,” Cullen said dryly.

“Rutherford, this is _no time_ for sarcasm,” I spoke seriously. He only gave me a brief, deadpan look before going on.

“Empress Celene is beginning her speech soon,” Cullen stated while I downed the small potion and grimaced at its taste. Mere moments later the pain in my leg subsided and some strength returned. “What do you want us to do?”

I wiped my mouth with the back of a blood-stained, gloved hand. “Duchess Florianne is the one behind everything. Wait for her to assassinate Celene personally. Be ready to grab her right after she does. And make sure the soldiers are prepared. I’ve already encountered Florianne’s people; they’re more vicious and deadly than most.”

If Cullen had any opinions on my decision, he didn’t show it. He only gave a curt nod and reached for the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there. “As you command.”

As I passed to make my descent onto the ballroom floor, an announcer shouted, “Let all gathered attend! Her Imperial Majesty will now address the court!”

I kept my head raised high, pretending as though I wasn’t still partially bleeding and had my hair halfway unbound from the fight just minutes ago. Those who stood on the dancefloor parted for me, shock and bewilderment covered by their masks.

Celene didn’t wait for me to reach my spot beside Gaspard before she started speaking. “My friends,” she started, hands regally motioning alongside her words, “we have lost much. We have each seen a child, a lover, a friend consigned to the flames.”

I could feel the fire licking my feet all over again. “The darkness has closed in around us, but even now there is light! We must be that light! We must lead our people safely through these troubled times. We must be their guiding star.” Her fist closed and landed on the cold marble railing she stood behind. “Tonight, the war dividing us must end.”

Florianne emerged from the shadows behind Celene and stood beside the empress. Her eyes met mine for a split-second before she, too, began to talk. “My friends, we are here to witness an historic moment.” One of her hands trailed behind her back, and I picked up my pace. Things were already moving too quickly. _Yet,_ I thought bitterly to myself, _since when do they move slowly?_

“Isn’t that right, Gaspard?” Florianne was moving behind Florianne, and the flash of still glinted in the glow of the hall. My own hand went to the knife Sera had given me, ready to use when—

A thing inside me, vicious and vile, twisted with glee as the entire court watched Florianne’s dagger drive into Celene’s back and out through her stomach. The empress only thrust her head back and emitted a low, rattling groan before going limp. Screams erupted throughout the ballroom, and I was nearly swept away by the fleeing crowd. And with my leg only half-healed, it was difficult not to collapse. I had to tap into my unnatural strength to keep pressing forward.

“Florianne!” Gaspard yelled as Celene lifelessly dropped to the ground. “What have you done?”

She laughed and looked down at her sibling. “Don’t be coy! It went just as we planned! I did this for you, brother!”

For once in the chevalier’s life, he was baffled. _“Me?_ Have you gone mad?”

I broke free of the pushing crowd and staggered up the stairs. “No,” I snarled piercingly, “not Gaspard. You did this for Corypheus!”

Florianne sneered at me. “What a terrible guest you are, Inquisitor. Interrupting your host is bad etiquette!”

The clash of metal drew my attention away from the duchess. The Inner Circle and soldiers were fending off harlequins and other agents who threw themselves into the chaos. “For Corypheus!” Florianne shrieked. “Kill them! Kill the Inquisitor!”

I barely had time to defend myself from a clown-faced assailant who tried puncturing my lungs with a needle-like shiv. Gaspard dove out of the way while I countered the attack with Sera’s dagger. Up above, magic blasted and curses were shouted.

The shiv slashing at my abdomen was narrowly avoided, thanks to quick and instinctive reflexes. The harlequin tried again, but instead of dodging I grabbed their wrist and twisted it until I heard bones break. Before they had a chance to scream I deftly moved behind them and sunk the dagger in their chest. A guttural scream tore through my throat as my hand slipped and sliced itself on the blade. Dropping the harlequin, I spun back to see Florianne watching the hysteria and pandemonium unfold with a pleased grin. There would be no way I could reach her; she already had the upper hand just from where she stood. More would die, the battle would be prolonged, and there was a large possibility that Florianne would still escape.

I had enough fighting for one day.

Grabbing the hilt of my greatsword with my injured hand, I unsheathed it and raised the weapon as if I was throwing a spear. I bounded one, two, three times before hurtling the sword at Florianne. She barely had time to glance my way before being lanced right through her neck. The force was so great that not only was Florianne thrown off her feet, but simultaneously decapitated. Gaspard cried out in agony upon seeing his sister’s bloody death.

The world slowed for a moment as it hurried to catch up with me. I could hear my breath, feel the reaver inside me struggling to unleash its wrath, smell perfume mixed with terror and metal. Corpses of harlequins, nobility, servants, and soldiers littered about. Eyes open, mouths silently screaming, looking at me with betrayal.

_Is this what I’ve become? Yet another who accepts death as part of the agenda? Since when did I stop feeling sick when I saw a dead body? Since when did I start feeling numb to the taking of lives?_

_Was Celene right, after all?_

The present world crashed into me, and I rolled to a dropped short sword in time to stick it underneath the chin of an attacking harlequin. Red gushed onto their white-painted jaw and spattered onto my glasses. I ripped the sword free and shucked the dead weight onto the floor. The battle was being contained, now, as the Inquisition soldiers and remaining chevaliers took down agents of Corypheus. Cassandra was jogging towards me, looking cool and collected despite the smear of blood on her face.

 _“Comment ça va?”_ she asked.

I blinked, mind slow to process what was being said. _“Tu parles une autre langue,”_ I managed to mumble in French. Orlesian. Whatever.

“Sorry. I sometimes have trouble transitioning.” Cassandra put a hand on my shoulder and surveyed the gory aftermath. A potion was pushed in my hand and I downed the contents without grimacing. Flesh stitched together and pain subsided, but I still felt like there was something else, something that couldn’t be healed—

“Alaran,” Cassandra spoke firmly, fingers digging in. I realized I had been staring at my freshly healed pam for longer than normal. When I looked at her, I was nearly consumed by her gray-and-gold-and-blue eyes. People in Thedas had such interesting irises. I wondered if it was because of the Fade. “It’s over. It’s done.”

I slowly blinked again. _Was it over? Was this nightmare finally done?_

_Never. It’s never over._

Cassandra’s hand moved to the nape of my neck. She pulled me in close to her and leaned down so her forehead pressed against mine. “Alaran,” she repeated, “it’s over. It’s over. Anchor yourself. You can’t lose control just yet. There are still matters to attend to.”

My hand flexed before reaching up and gripping the back of Cassandra’s neck as well. I closed my eyes and took a breath. “Lead them,” I whispered prayerfully.

“Or fall,” Cassandra finished just as faithfully.

_Lead them or fall._

_Lead them or fall._

_Lead them or fall._

I chanted the phrase to myself even as I walked past Celene and Florianne’s corpses, picked up my sword, and met with Gaspard and Briala on one of the larger balconies. The two were already at each other’s throats by the time I got there. “...Wasting time trying to stir the nobility against me,” Gaspard spat. “We’re at war!”

Briala harshly chuckled. “I hardly have to stir them at all. Your sister murdered Celene! Everyone saw it. You’re a traitor by association.”

Gaspard encroached on Briala, but she fearlessly stood her ground. “What do you hope to gain, rabbit? You can’t claim Celene’s empty throne for yourself.”

“Maybe not. But I can keep it from _you.”_ The ambassador looked to me. Gaspard instinctively took a step back.

“Inquisitor, if—”

“Stop talking, Gaspard,” I sharply cut off. “You will never rule Orlais. Did you ever think that I, a _rabbit,_ would ever support you taking the throne? You breed fear and hatred, and will only plunge this half-gone nation further into chaos and confusion.”

“Is that so?” he asked softly. “Do you honestly believe you can stop me? That my nation would turn against the rightful ruler?”

My patience was fraying. “You made it all too easy finding materials to blackmail you with. Try to fight us, we’ll destroy you, things like that.” I pushed my lips to the side. “Listen, I’m pretty—”

Gaspard’s arm reeled back to hit me. I effortlessly grabbed his wrist mid-swing and punched him so hard in the face that it dented his mask. “Do that again, and I’ll do to you what I did to your sister,” I said flatly as I towered over the usurper. Briala stood behind me, arms folded and expression triumphant. “Change is coming to Orlais. And you have all the strings we need to pull in order to make that possible. Briala will handle things from here on out.” I ruefully smirked. “I wonder, Gaspard, how it feels knowing that two rabbits will oversee everything you do until the day you die.”

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” Briala assured. “You’ll find you can endure my demands.” She turned to me, smile shifting into sincerity. “The elves of Orlais will make great gains under our new emperor.”

“I can’t wait to see what happens,” I automatically smiled

“I’m not about to forget your part in this,” the ambassador said as we began walking back inside the ballroom. Gaspard would follow along soon enough. “the Inquisition will have all the support I can raise. I promise.”

Though royal blood stained the carpet we tread upon, the bodies of the empress and the duchess were nowhere to be seen. “The elves of Orlais have a future,” Briala went on. “For the first time in centuries. If only Celene…” She drew herself short, and I felt a hollowness where the guilt should be. But Briala staunchly squared her shoulders and recomposed. “My people will find a way to repay you.”

“I don’t want to be repaid anything,” I explained. “I want a united effort on both sides.”

“You will have it.” Briala looked at the awaiting—remaining—court. “We’re keeping our new emperor waiting. Go give the nobility the good news.”

We shared the same sort of smirks before separating.

-

The clouds were finally drifting far enough apart that slants of moonlight shone down on the stolen city. The air was cool and refreshing; it was as if I hadn’t been breathing it in all night.

The vacant balcony gave me the chance to relax. My muscles were sore, the adrenaline had ebbed away, and the taste in my mouth wasn’t great. I popped one of my few remaining mint leaves Josephine had given to me in a small pouch before the peace talks. Freak, I was tired. If I laid down on the floor right now, I’d probably fall asleep instantaneously.

I was so exhausted that when a vulpine voice started talking out-of-the-blue, I couldn’t even bring myself to jump and spin around. “Here at last I find our hero.” The sounds of Morrigan’s swishing dress neared. “Hidden away despite the efforts of all Orlais to find you.”

The Witch of the Wilds came to stand beside me. Her yellow eyes gleamed in the dim. “The elves raise glasses in your honor while the newly crowned emperor glowers. ‘Tis quite the spectacle.”

“Thank you,” was all I said.

Morrigan regarded her nails for a moment before speaking again. “It seems I am also to join the esteemed crowd of people that follow you, Inquisitor Lavellan. By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Gaspard wishes to offer any and all aid to the one who supported his ascent to the throne. So here I am.”

“Varryn told me you’d be joining us,” I couldn’t help but smile. It was validating to see surprise flash across Morrigan’s face. Loudly sighing (was sighing all I ever did, these days?), I propped my elbows against the sleek marble balustrade. “I’m not sure if he told you about me, but I’m an Otherworlder like him. He’ll be excited to hear that you’re coming to Skyhold with Kieran. I’m assuming you’re bringing your son, right?”

“…Correct.”

“Good. I have some things he wanted me to give you when we met in Crestwood.”

“Ah.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. It was mostly all undone, anyways. “I’m sorry.” A weak laugh. “I probably should have been more tactful.”

Morrigan was sharply regarding me, unsure if she should lash out or be amused. I wouldn’t have cared either way. “You create the same Veil irregularity that Varryn does, but I remained unsure. I must say, Inquisitor, that I am unhappy my significant other never mentioned your shared origins.” Morrigan sighed and shook her head. “That man,” she mumbled bitterly, but there was a fond smile on her lips. “Thank you for being forthright, Inquisitor. I did not expect to find such a trait in you.”

“Funny,” I deadpanned. Man, it had been a _long_ time since I was this sort of exhausted.

The apostate chuckled and said, “We will meet again at Skyhold, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

I nodded once, trying to make it look like I wasn’t about to collapse and fall into a slumbering heap. Morrigan returned the motion and silently walked away, leaving me alone once more. After taking off my greatsword and setting it down, I crawled onto the flat top of the railing and stretched out to lay on my back. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was better than standing on my feet. I breathed a large sigh of relief and closed my eyes.

“… _Fuck!”_ somebody blatantly swore.

“Solas,” I drawled, turning my head to him but keeping eyes closed, “watch your g.d. language.”

There was a terse sigh as he approached. “You could slip and fall to your death at any moment.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m impossible to kill.”

“You sound like the elvhen pantheon,” Solas said dryly. A laugh parted my lips.

“And look what happened to them,” I concluded. Cracking an eye open, I found myself peering up at the elf I loved. Solas looked as tired as I felt, but there was still an energy about him I had lost over an hour ago. I couldn’t help but reach up and cup his exquisite jawline. Solas laid his hand over mine and angled his head so he could kiss my ungloved palm.

“Please,” he muttered, breath warm on my skin, “at least sit up.”

“Afraid I’m gonna fall off?” I playfully inquired. “Like this…?” I started rolling off the ledge, pretending to softly scream.

Solas grabbed my waist and yanked me off the railing. I abruptly laughed and played limp noodle. _“Hngh,”_ he grunted, surprised at the sudden weight he was carrying. “Alaran.” Solas couldn’t help but laugh himself. “I’m going to drop you.”

“No, you’re not,” I giggled. A second later I hit the ground. “Aw.”

Laboriously, I stood back up with assistance from Solas. His stupid helmet hat gleamed spectacularly in the moonlight. “How are you?” he asked me. My small smile slipped as I considered the broad question.

I leaned an elbow against the marble and gazed out at the darkened palace grounds. “I never thought anything could hand my ass to me as much as tonight has.”

Solas didn’t touch me, but he joined my side. “Such is the Game. But you are an exemplary player. It was…amazing to watch you out there, _vhenan.”_

I should have been glowing with pride at Solas’ compliment. Instead I merely pursed my lips. “I know. I know I’m good. Great. Fantastic. Whatever. But it doesn’t change the fact that I feel…weird inside. Hollow.”

“The toll is great, yes,” Solas sympathized. “And we do not leave from such things unaffected. But it will pass.”

“Will it?” I breathed. “I killed an empress, tonight. I looked Celene in the eyes and basically _told_ her she was going to die. And she did.

“I’ve ended a lot of peoples’ lives, Solas. But not in this way. Not for this purpose. Vengeance has fueled me, and now vengeance has left me. I have to think: what else will I do when I’m fueled by what I was tonight? What else will I destroy because of what I think is best?” I didn’t bow my head, but I damn sure felt the weight.

In a low voice, I uttered, “I just wanted to be a musician, Solas. Not the one who decides the fate of millions.”

Solas touched the small of my sore back. “You cannot do that to yourself, Alaran. You cannot ask the endless ‘what ifs.’ It will eat you alive.”

A humorless laugh. “I know. Tonight just really messed me up. The worst thing is that I hadn’t even expected to _feel_ like this. What does that say about my character?”

“It speaks of how resolute you are. How you practice unwavering strength and fortitude. Are those such terrible qualities for a person in your position to have?”

“Traits like that make me susceptible to corruption,” I muttered darkly.

“And what qualities would you rather possess? Indecisiveness and cowardice? That would make you doubly susceptible and less capable of leading the Inquisition.”

“No—” I started, tone argumentative. Then I drew back and let down my instinctive defenses. “No. It…Solas, it’s just hard acknowledging that right actions don’t always make you feel good.”

His proffered silence was more comforting than any spoken words.

After several moments of stillness, I concluded that I wanted—needed—a moment of happiness amidst this night of turmoil. Freaking hell, I needed to experience something other than sadness and anger and frustration.

Turning to Solas, I smirked and reached up to take off his ugly helmet. Regarding it with a sneer, I declared, “This bitch ugly.” Then I pitched the accessory over the balcony with as much strength I could use—meaning it went a long way. As it sailed into the darkness, I yelled, _“Yeet!”_

I had thrown it so far neither Solas or I heard a _clang_ as it hit the ground.

The joke was so funny to me that I had to press my head to the rail as I was overcome with gleeful laughter. Solas started laughing because I was, not exactly because he thought what I had done was hilarious. But it lightened the mood immensely, and then Solas was taking my hand and leading me to the center of the balcony. “Come, dance with me! Before the band stops playing!” he said eagerly, life aglow in his eyes.

The sight of him made me beam. I clasped his shoulder and fell into the rhythm of the dance Solas and I had practiced together for weeks. It quickly melted into silly dancing, with too much swinging and swaying and not enough steps and elegance. At one point amidst our balter, I dramatically caressed Solas’ face while doing a spectacular leg kick. He took my extended leg and awkwardly lifted me up in the air, spinning in a badly-coordinated circle.

I completely lost it and threw my head back to loudly and unashamedly laugh. Solas broke down into his amused snorts and sloppily set me back onto the ground. The music had ended before our dance did, but neither of us paid any mind.

Solas drew me tightly to him and pressed his lips to mine, uncaring of proper ballroom etiquette. I forgot about the world and its problems and passionately lived in the small, temporary one the two of us had created.

It was a nice way to end such a night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, I'm always slightly disappointed whenever I read an MGiT and the character never notices that there's a KROGAN HEAD FROM MASS EFFECT on the trophy room wall? I know it's just an easter egg in the game, but what if it was in real life? What implications could it have??
> 
> Also, the reference Alaran made when throwing Solas' fugly helmet off the balcony comes from this vine. www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Bjy5YQ5xPc
> 
> Anyways. I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter. Tell me your thoughts. Astral project your feelings. Stay lovely.


	61. All New, Faded For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al goes to the Exalted Plains again

The shrill scream for help was so abrupt and terrifying that it jolted me awake. Limbs flew as I nearly jumped from the couch I had fallen asleep on.

“Al?” Varric asked as I heaved breaths and clutched my heart. His brow was already furrowed in concern from watching over Kasi. She had been sick with a gripping cold for the past couple days, but despite multiple healers telling him that she would be better in another day or so, he remained worried and vigilant.

“Freaking…” I uttered, having a hard time processing what I just heard. _Who_ I just heard.

“You okay? I was gonna wake you, but—”

I practically tore off the blanket Varric had laid over me and leapt to my feet. “Wis…she’s in…she’s in trouble.”

“Who?”

 _“Wisdom,”_ I unintentionally snapped. It would have been a shout if it weren’t for the sick, sleeping princess lying on the bed. Varric only tilted his head. Bubs, who was laying by the bed, got up and licked my hand.

“Your spirit friend?”

“Yeah, I—I heard her—she was—” I grabbed my glasses resting on a nightstand and shoved them on my face. As I walked to the door, I absently muttered, “I need to talk to Solas.”

With Bubs following, I grabbed the robe I had worn to Varric’s room off the coat hanger and slung it on before stepping out. As soon as I was in the dark, sconce-lit hallway, I broke into a run. My breath was sharp in my throat as bare feet slapped and Mabari claws slapped against the cold floor. The sounds seemed to echo:

_Wisdom is in danger. Wisdom is in danger. Wisdom is in danger._

By the time I reached the wing where Solas’ room was, he was already anxiously jogging down the hall. He, too, had been asleep, from the way he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Solas,” I quietly called. He looked relieved to see me. We embraced each other in a tight hug.

“You heard it, as well?” he anxiously questioned. I pulled back and gave a nod.

“It was her, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. She’s been captured by mages and forced into slavery.” Solas’ brevity didn’t hide his visible distress. I pushed my fingers through disheveled white hair.

“I freaking _told_ her not to go to the Exalted Plains. I _told_ her. It’s still such a bad place, but she wouldn’t listen and now—” I lifted my eyes back to Solas, feeling the fear on my face.

“We must make haste,” he said, cupping my jaw and lightly digging his fingers into my skin. “We have to go to the Exalted Plains.”

“Agreed. Were you able to sense where she might be?”

“I believe so.” I took Solas’ hand as we returned to his room.

“You know we can’t go alone.”

A terse sigh. “Yes. If Varric—”

“He’s taking care of Kasi,” I couldn’t help but interrupt. “And he isn’t going to leave her side until she gets better. Otherwise he’d go.”

“Then who will come?”

“Dorian and Blackwall are my first options. I’d say Cole would be a good option, but I’m afraid what could happen to him if he were in the area. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. I would prefer to keep him safe.” Solas and I entered his room. He waved a hand, and several candles immediately lit up. He threw on a tunic while I grabbed his pack and started putting items into them. “You should awaken them.”

“They’re not going to be happy.” I frowned more deeply. “But nobody’s going to be happy.”

The sound Solas made could have been considered a laugh, had it not been for the serious circumstance. “No. They’re not.”

Something nagged at me in the back of my mind, making enough noise that I couldn’t pretend to ignore it. Something that said:

_This is not going to end well._

_-_

The Exalted Plains was warmer and less war-torn than it had been during our last campaign. There were no overwhelming sounds of flies buzzing over fields of corpses, no occasional screech of a demon on the loose. Only the distant commotion of the ramparts still in commission, even though the war was over. That, and the whispers of growing wheat being touched by the wind. Nothing felt right, felt _in place._ I couldn’t explain it.

“We’re getting close,” Solas announced, pulling his hart to a trot. The four of us rode the same type of mounts, because while horses were faster, harts could run for days with little rest. They were also trained to stay still and attack anyone who wasn’t us. Bubs wouldn’t have been able to keep up with our pace, so he reluctantly stayed at Skyhold. But I wished I had brought him along, now that the tension and anxiety I was experiencing threatened to send me in a tailspin.

We dismounted and began a trek through the dry, calf-high grass. The leviathan-like wolf statue seated on top of the nearby mountain range seemed to stare specifically at us, watching Fen’Harel lead little mortals to try and save a friend as old as he.

Wisdom was going to be okay.

Wasn’t she?

“Look, over there,” Blackwall said, pointing to a lifeless body a few hundred feet in front of us. We broke into jogs to examine the corpse.

“One of the mages,” Solas frowned as I closed her cold, stiff eyelids. “Killed by arrows, it would seem.”

“Bandit arrows,” I said, recognizing the black-dyed fledging. “They must have been chased.” I turned my head windward and sniffed, ignoring the stench of decay coming from the body I was kneeling beside. “Do you smell that?”

Before I got a response, I stood and started running down the path. Solas followed closely behind, then Dorian and Blackwall. The path suddenly dipped, and I had to catch myself to keep from falling onto charred and blackened corpses. Solas managed to steady me with a hand on my pauldron, but his knuckles were white and hand trembling. “These aren’t mages,” he managed to say after a difficult swallow. “The bodies are burned, and the claw marks…” Solas looked further down the path, face fearful and desperate. “No. No, no, no, no.”

I bit back a terrified sob, trying not to let my resolve be crushed. My feet were swiftly carrying me, but it was as if I was trying to run through sludge. I wanted to grab Solas’ hand. In case the worst had happened.

_Wisdom had to be okay. Wisdom had to be okay. We’ll be able to save her, and she can get out of here and we’ll be happy again and have discussions on politics and religion and Earth and Thedas and—_

The four of us reached the rocky spot by the riverbank.

I barely heard Solas’ sharp gasp over the roaring in my ears as I looked upon an imprisoned pride demon.

No. Not a demon.

 _“Wisdom!”_ I cried out, voice cracking a hundred different ways. My legs wanted to buckle, my stomach wanted to be sick, my heart wanted to shrivel and die. “They…they _turned_ her,” I raggedly breathed, mouth suddenly dry and foul-tasting.

Solas wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “Yes,” he hissed.

I rubbed a hand over my forehead, remembering again that I had forgotten my helmet in the chaos of departure. “She’s a spirit of wisdom, she’s not a fighter!”

“A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose!” said Solas, unbridling his anger. I didn’t flinch at his harsh words, knowing that it wasn’t directed at me. Still, it forged my heated panic into cold fury. Because if I was furious, then I wouldn’t be aching, I wouldn’t feel broken and hopeless and scared.

“The bandits,” I said. “The mages summoned her to fight the bandits.”

The crunch of footsteps directed our attention. Red tinged my vision as I regarded a small, tubby mage warily approaching us. “Let us ask them,” Solas said, thunder in his entire being.

“A mage! You’re not with the bandits?” he asked. His naïve tone made it clear he was still Circle-soft. “Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We’ve been fighting that demon—”

“You _summoned_ that demon!” Solas exploded. “Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time! You made her kill! You twisted her against her purpose!”

“I—I—I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us I can—”

I lunged for the mage’s throat and lifted him off the ground, a snarl coming up from the pits of my chest. He cried out in alarm and gasped for breath, unable to tear away from my iron grip. “We are not here to help you,” I viciously growled. I was tempted to crush his windpipe, too see the life flee from his eyes for hurting my friend—

Instead I threw him to the ground, where he pitifully hacked and coughed. “You summed her to protect you from the bandits!” Solas snapped, encroaching on the mage.

“Y-yes!” the mage hoarsely sputtered as he held his throat. My fists balled until I could feel every tendon, bone, and muscle straining against the flex. Dorian—or was it Blackwall?—put their hand on my arm, but I ripped it free. I _wouldn’t_ feel anything other than anger. It was all I had to cling to in order to stay upright.

“You bound her to obedience, then commanded her to kill. _That_ is when she turned!” Solas faced me. “The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature. No demon.”

“What?” The mage exclaimed, still on the ground. “The binding is the only thing keeping—”

 _“Shut up,”_ I spat with so much vitriol the mage visibly paled and cowered. Looking back to Solas, I said, “Will it really work? Can we really free her?”

_No. You can’t._

“Yes. We can try.”

I nodded affirmatively and looked to Dorian and Blackwall. “Dorian, you go with Solas to take down the bindings. Blackwall, with me to distract Wisdom.”

“Inquisitor,” Blackwall said as he warily sized up the massive demon only twenty yards away, “are you sure we can distract it without engaging it?”

“We had better,” I only replied while unsheathing my sword and bringing it close to me. Blackwall readied his shield and double-edged axe.

Wisdom let out a guttural roar and charged the air with electricity. “We must hurry!” Solas yelled.

 _Hold on, Wis,_ I thought to myself as Blackwall and I charged at her. _Hold on._

_-_

The last binding broke with a deafening **_crack_** that split through the air. Blackwall and I dodged a final, surging ball of electricity that exploded a rock behind me. The impact was so great that it whipped my head forward and left the world muted and spinning. I couldn’t hear myself groaning as I tried to sit up. When my vision stopped swimming, I realized that there wasn’t a demon anymore. The bindings had been broken.

Where was Wisdom?

I saw Solas crouching in front of a blackened, disjointed figure. She was too familiar and too real to be in this world.

“No,” I whispered, the single syllable echoing inside my silent head. Staggering upright, I made my way over to Solas and Wisdom, even though I knew it would only bring me suffering in doing so.

 _I save my friends,_ I absently thought to myself as I fell to my knees beside my love. _I save them. I always save them. I don’t lose friends; I keep them. I save them._  In front of me were the remnants of Wisdom. The world was growing louder again, making me hear things I didn’t want to.

She wasn’t colorful like she was in the Fade. She wasn’t strong and smiling. She wasn’t watchful and witty.

“I’m sorry,” Solas spoke in elven.

“I’m not,” Wisdom returned. Her voice, her voice was supposed to be _more_ than it was here in the Waking World. Here it sounded small and throaty. “I’m happy. I’m me again.”

Hot tears poured onto my cheeks. “Do not cry, _da’vhenan,”_ Wisdom said to me. “I will be free.”

I wanted to touch her, to feel the comfortable buzz of her energy that led me to places I never could have dreamed of. That lifted me up when I was struggling. That taught me what I couldn’t have been taught when I was awake. But if I had touched her, now, I would have merely felt the misty consistency of a wisp.

“You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death.”

Solas looked away and closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked at Wisdom again, he simply said, _“Ma nuvenin.”_

Then, with a simple spell weaved by his own two calloused hands, Solas allowed Wisdom to dissipate into nothing.

**_You couldn’t save her._ **

Words wouldn’t come. Thoughts wouldn’t come. I was overwhelmed by the sickening, numbing, devastating feeling of Loss.

After what seemed to be an eternity, I turned my head to Solas. He was still staring at the spot where Wisdom had been. _“Dareth shiral,”_ he whispered to himself.

Wisdom couldn’t have been gone, right? She was back in the Fade, safe and happy and immortal and…and…

I whimpered once and tried to speak through the giant, grating stone in my throat. “Solas…” But he wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t touch me, even as I reached out for him. Instead he abruptly stood and started stalking towards the Circle mage, who now had a few other, younger-looking apprentices standing wearily behind him. They appeared more frightened as Solas approached. “All that remains now is them.”

I knew that tone of his. The dangerous one. The murderous one.

“You. You tortured and killed my friend!” he shouted, raising his staff. The head mage, the one that I wanted to die just as Wisdom had, put his arms up to protect the ones behind him. They were defenseless, exhausted of all magic and all strength. They were at Solas’ mercy. And he had none.

I lunged forward and bolted between the space between Solas and the mage. By the time Solas realized what I had done, the lethal spell he’d cast was already in full effect. I absorbed its impact and staggered as a foreign power channeled through me. The Anchor violently flared and the taste of charcoal flooded my mouth, but I was left otherwise unharmed.

“Alaran! What are you doing?” Solas sharply yelled. “They killed her! They killed Wisdom! And you’re just going to let them _live?”_

I could only stare at him for a few seconds while I found my voice. When I spoke, it sounded raw and scratchy and weak. “They didn’t know, Solas. They didn’t know,” I could only pant. When he didn’t seem to change his intentions, I grimaced in pain and said, “She wouldn’t have wanted this. This death. Not when there is already so much. And Solas…you don’t want this, either.”

My words finally cracked through his blind rage. Solas tightly clenched his jaw, but took a step back and lowered his staff. I wanted to fling my arms around him, to weep and grieve together, to share—

“I need to be alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold.”

The aching heart inside me skipped and crashed to the earth. “Solas, no—” I reached out for him, but he was already turning away from me. Before I could grab hold of anything, he Fade-stepped away and vanished from sight.

I was left standing there, arm outstretched and hand frozen into a claw.

The world had been damned into silence. The mage I protected from Solas’ wrath said something, but I didn’t hear him. “Get out of here,” I remembered mumbling. In a haze, I walked to the riverbank close by and only stopped until water soaked into my boots and turned my feet into unfeeling lead. I didn’t care. I wished I could completely submerge myself so I didn’t feel…I didn’t feel _this_ anymore.

The wolf monument in the distance watched me struggle to maintain control. Hot tears rolled down until they reached my jawline, where they formed into drops and fell into the moving water below. I was biting my lip too hard, but if I let up then I would start sobbing.

I cast my bleary eyes to the other side of the river, then to the mountain range beyond, then to the cloudless sky. Maybe if I wished hard enough, I’d be able to fly into a bird and soar through the heavens until I was on Earth, again.

Because right here, in the rocky shallows a river bank in the Exalted Plains, was the last possible place I wanted to be. If I could get far enough away, leave Thedas entirely, I’d stop feeling as though a void was swallowing my being. Maybe I wouldn’t have to leave, and simply collapse like a dying star amidst the cold, unforgiving emptiness of space.

But the river was still flowing, the breeze was still sighing, and I was still here.

This was where feelings got me. Every. Time.

I broke myself before anything else could. Gritting my teeth together, I forcibly _snapped_ off the connection between me and the emotions tainting everything inside. And when it tried to rebuild and regrow, I snapped and snapped and snapped again until—

Dorian and Blackwall were only a few feet from the shoreline when I turned around. “Alaran?” Dorian prompted uneasily. “Maker…are you alright?”

“Fine,” I replied monotonously. Because I was fine. If I was anything other than fine, then I’d be feeling.

“Nobody can be alright after…” Blackwall started, then trailed off when he saw the expression on my face. Or, rather, the _lack of_ one.

He took a hesitant step towards me as I left the water. “Look, I know what you’re going through, but you can’t—”

“Our mounts are waiting and there are most likely some remaining bandits that the mages were fleeing from. We’d best get going before someone sees our small numbers as an opportunity to strike.”

I walked past them. Blackwall made a noise, but was quieted by Dorian simply murmuring, “Don’t.”

We made our way back to our mounts in silence. Solas’ hart was tied to Blackwall’s so it wouldn’t wander while we rode. Everything was so still that I would have been disturbed, had it not been for my own absolute quiet…

My ear twitched at the faint sound of a bowstring creaking from my left.

“Cover!” I suddenly bellowed as I dove off the saddle. An arrow shot past half a second later. I looked at the cropping of rocks where the arrow had come from and charged.

“Alaran, wait!” Blackwall proclaimed.

I didn’t listen to him, though, and raised my greatsword as I closed in on the bandits’ shelter. An archer popped up to take another shot at me, but he was expertly hit in the chest with a streaking ball of fire. Two more rogues darted out from the boulders, daggers glinting in their hands. I easily chopped one down while Blackwall took on the other. I didn’t look at their face as I killed them.

“Don’t advance!” Blackwall was trying to give me instructions. Trying to protect me from whoever waited behind the sandy-gray rocks.

I didn’t need protection.

The pair of warriors that tried rushing me as I leapt over the cropping were met with a flaming greatsword. I struck one down in a single blow. The second tried to sweep my legs out from under me, but I side-stepped and slammed into his body. He had his footing, however, and was barely affected. Our swords clashed, and he cried out in pain as flames licked at his face.

I was so intent on ending this man’s life that I didn’t see a third bandit come in and cleave me in the unarmored side with a hatchet.

I screamed in agony as the bandit noisily wrenched the hatchet back out from the side of my waist. A waterfall of blood immediately sloughed onto the grass. I stumbled against the boulder, feeling my body try to fight against the surging Reaver instinct that surfaced whenever I was injured.

The world was red as I dove back into the fight, hacking wildly at the bandits. They didn’t think I would be able to stand, let alone furiously fight. Blackwall bluntly took out the warrior with the hatchet covered in my blood while I savagely slashed at the other. He was overpowered by sheer, unrelenting force, and soon I was looking down at a glassy-eyed man with my sword in his chest.

He was dead. I was dying.

With a groan, I collapsed to the ground and clutched the gaping wound in my side. The Reaver was subsiding, giving way to searing, overwhelming pain. “Oh, Maker, Maker,” Blackwall said frantically as he placed his hands next to mine to staunch the blood flow. “Dorian! Do something!”

“Magic doesn’t work on her! I can’t do anything!”

“You must have a—a healing potion!”

“They’re back with the mounts! And with a wound of this severity—” Dorian gulped. He was pale and unsteady. I wanted to tell him that it would be okay.

“Don’t think about it. Just _go!”_ Blackwall commanded. The Tevinter stood and Fade-stepped back to the harts.

“Just hang on, Alaran. Just hang on.” Blackwall was holding me close to him, now, as if he was trying to keep me from the clutches of death.

 _Stop worrying,_ I wanted to smile, _I always survive._

But there was a coldness to my body, and I felt blood coat my throat and teeth.

The sound of Dorian slicing through the Fade drew a bit of my attention, but I was mostly preoccupied with how blue and still the sky was. The two men were yelling, but I couldn’t move my lips to tell them to calm down.

Liquid was poured down my throat. I struggled to swallow it. The bitter taste of elfroot mixed with metal. Something stitched together in my side, but I knew it wasn’t enough to make any substantial change. Two more healing potions were given to me. I still grew colder.

My voice was hoarse and wheezing as a small amount of strength was restored from the potion. “Take…take one and pour it on the wound,” I instructed Dorian, who had somehow managed to get my blood smeared across his face. He looked nearly as pale as I was.

“It won’t reattach _bones,_ Alaran,” he quaveringly said. “Your ribs, they’re—” Dorian choked off.

I cast my eyes down at the grisly mess. A portion of my ribs had been hacked in two, and were now jutting out at odd angles. Blood was overwhelming Blackwall’s hand as though it wasn’t there at all.

“Oh,” I breathed. I had become so cold that I didn’t feel how painful it was supposed to be, anymore.

_Maybe I wouldn’t survive, this time. What a funny thought._

Dorian poured another healing potion on the gaping hole. I raggedly wailed from the concentrated amount of heat it produced. Blackwall still held me firm to him, saying things I didn’t understand.

 _Wisdom will be sad if you go,_ I absently thought.

_But Wisdom is already gone._

I looked back to the sky and wished Bubs were here, wished Varric were here. But, in another sense, I was also glad they weren’t because then they wouldn’t have to watch me die.

And, above all else, I wished Solas were here.

“Tell him…” I weakly rasped, “tell him I’m…I’m sorry he lost me, too.”

“Alaran, no!” Blackwall started shaking me, for my eyes were closing and body growing relaxed. The false Warden threw his head back and bellowed, “HALLAH! HELP US!”

But she wouldn’t come. I wasn’t angry with her. There were some things she just couldn’t do. And I was too tired to fight. Too tired to live, now.

Dorian made a noise akin to a yell. “No, no, no! I am _not_ letting you die! Not like this! If anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be me when I wring your neck for making too many stupid jokes!”

Magic flowed over and around me. Then more, and more, and more magic that still had no effect. Poor Dorian. He shouldn’t blame himself for my death. It was my own stupidity. Stupidity and sadness.

He suddenly cried out as _something_ ripped through my system. It was power, raw and uncontained and primordial. It did not inherently belong to the mage who was trying to save my life.  He was merely a conductor, a way to channel a greater force into my body and wrack it with torment.

I saw white, even though my eyes were opened and face a mask of anguish. The pain was similar to what I felt after Haven, after I had made my choice to remain in Thedas. But it tasted familiar, like the sharpness of the Fade and long conversations and piano music, because the piano was _her_ favorite.

_Da’vhenan. Feel. It is what makes you alive. It is what makes you **you.**_

Wisdom was dead, though. She was gone. She had no power, because she had to _exist_ to have any.

My jaw strained as a long, piercing scream echoed across the Exalted Plains. If the injury didn’t kill me, then grief certainly would. I didn’t stop screaming, even after my muscles and bones fused in their natural places. Not even after the whiteness faded to the blue sky, or after Dorian rapidly bound my still-open wound with trembling fingers.

I could feel. I could feel everything. Even when I finally passed out in Blackwall’s arms as we rode to the nearest camp, I could feel it all.

And when it was all done, when my screams ebbed into scratchy whispers and finally silence, I was left with that one emotion. That singular, crushing emotion nobody can escape from. It grew stronger with each heartbeat, with each breath, with each tear that rolled down a cheek.

Grief. Grief. Grief.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry if this chapter caused you pain. 
> 
> Secondly, I'm sorry this chapter took a long time to be posted. I've been preoccupied with other, more important things in my life, but I'm happy to have finally finished this. 
> 
> And third, I hope all of you are staying lovely.


	62. Ara Ma'athlan Vhenas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al deals with the aftermath

I awoke with an uncomfortable soreness in my side and a grainy taste in my mouth. A heavy Mabari tongue licked at my stiff hand while voices murmured around me. The world dipped and spun with their tones, and I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

“Oh, thank the Maker. She’s awake.” It was Josephine.

Somebody was laying a cool cloth to my forehead, relieving a bit of the pressure building inside my skull. “She’ll still in serious condition.” Vivienne was speaking, now. “But Hana Amell’s poultice helped substantially. The infection is nearly gone.”

A thick, calloused hand stroked my cheek. “Hey, Al. You had a good nap?” Varric was purposefully joking, but worry strained his syllables.

I couldn’t move my mouth to give a reply. Instead, a weak, sad sound escaped through slightly parted lips. Shortly after, another wet cloth lightly padded against my lips and provided some moisture.

My glasses had been taken off, so when I could fully open my eyes and register all that was around me, I searched for the one person that I wanted, _needed_ to see.

But he wasn’t there.

Throat bobbing, I softly whispered, “Solas. Where…?”

The room falling silent was the answer to my half-question. I felt small and bare, and all the eyes on me were too close and pitying.

Unable to tell everyone to get out, I instead pretended to drift back off into sleep. The act soon turned into reality, and I was met with a blank slate of unconsciousness.

-

When I opened my eyes, nobody was in my room. Low flames burned in the fireplace, and a gray, pre-morning light washed in through the windows. Bubba was still asleep near my legs. My glasses were on my nightstand, and I was positioned far enough on the left side of the bed to be able to reach out and grab them.

My arm was slow to lift and slow to move. As soon as I started leaning over, my entire abdomen seemed to catch on fire. I hissed but didn’t stop. I wasn’t sure how long I had been laid up, but lack of movement made my muscles tight and sore.

Bubba immediately awoke and lifted his head up. He emitted a soft whine and crawled forward until his head was right by my hips. I faintly smiled at him, grasped my spectacles, and sluggishly put them on. Then I patted my hound’s head and scratched behind his ears a couple of times. “My boy,” I said. “My Bubba Boy.”

His great brown eyes were sad, and his ears were low against his skull. “Now, don’t be like that,” I chastised, voice cracking from dryness. “None of us could have known.”

Bubs huffed, unconvinced. I made a face at him before pulling the blankets off me and bracing myself for the damage. I wore nothing but underwear and a simple breast band. Thick, clean, bandage wrappings encircled my waist. I undid the pin holding them together and loosened the wrappings so I could see what had become of my wound.

It was dark and swollen, but looked clear of infection. Stiches puckered bruised skin together across my ribs. The skin above the bones had a different coloration than the rest of the area. It was blue and purple, contrasting against the yellow and pink. The gash itself was the length of the hatchet blade that nearly killed me. The scar was going to be thick and ugly, a reminder of when and why I had gotten it.

I pursed my lips and retightened the bandages. It ultimately looked healed enough for me to move around. “Ugh,” I groaned. “This is going to hurt.”

Bubberston got off the bed and patiently waited for me to get out. I honestly should have waited for another person to arrive to assist me, but my legs were too restless to be still for another moment.

It took a couple minutes for me to even get in an upright position, and I had to hang onto Bubba’s collar as he helped me stand. I focused on my breathing and tried not to clench the aching muscles. My knees threatened to collapse and I felt faintly sick, but I took one step forward, then another, until I was barely shuffling across the floor.

Bubba was guiding me to my dresser. I noticed a strange briefcase had been placed atop it, and, upon close examination, saw that there were large, flat folders underneath it. The briefcase itself was a plain mahogany color, but the lock was too modern and shiny to be crafted on Thedas.

And then I realized that this wasn’t a briefcase at all.

There were four plastic pegs on every corner, and pill-shaped speakers on the front of the case. On the side were knobs and little words in English, like _volume_ and _on/off_ and _aux._ Underneath the case were records. I gingerly pulled them out, and almost burst into tears as I looked upon the three vinyl albums. There was David Bowie’s _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars,_ The Head and the Heart’s debut album titled after their band name, and _Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits. _

For a while I just stared at them. I had never asked Hallah for any sort of music device, because I thought it would only make me miss Earth. But…but I was shaking with joy as I held each individual vinyl as though they were priceless artifacts. And to me, they really were. They were records from _my_ collection in _my_ room in New York, where I listened to them to unwind and dance by myself.

I unlatched the record player and pushed the lid back. Out of the three, I chose the Simon & Garfunkel album and ever-so-tenderly removed it from its slip. The vinyl was heavy and slender between my fingers as I placed it onto the turntable. I switched the _on_ button and lifted the needle from its lowered position. As soon as I moved it over the edge of the record, it began to readily spin.

I had to steady myself to keep from collapsing. The needle lowered at my will, and descended onto the black surface. The white noise before the music played for a second before the unforgettable guitar intro of _Mrs. Robinson_ sprang to life.

Bubba whined at the new sounds appearing out of nowhere, but I leaned my head back and let bliss ring through my ears and imbue in my blood. I wasn’t laughing, yet couldn’t help a grin from showing. The sweet flow of music swallowed me under its current, and I made no move to resurface. Fingers started tapping against my thigh to match the beat. I mouthed the lyrics to the song, swaying slightly, pain forgotten for a few relaxing moments.

Then _Mrs. Robinson_ ended, and _The Sound of Silence_ began.

My grin froze and fractured.

_Walking through a wintry forest with Solas, trying to forget that I had killed Bod, trying to come to terms that I had been in the Fade for far too long and not long enough. Solas listened while I sang to him, The Sound of Silence filling the silence with **more.** He looked at me while I sang of how silence like a cancer grows, hear my words that I might teach you, take my arms that I might reach you, and I should have realized that he was in love with me, that I was in love with him, but I was too focused on whispering the sound of silence. I just wanted to show him that if a lute was a sunset, then a guitar would be a forest._

Bubs brought me out of the flashback by nudging my leg consolingly. I blinked wide, dry eyes and braced myself against the dresser. The feeling of physical weakness had come back, making it a struggle to stay standing. But I forced myself to keep listening because I hadn’t heard music from my world beyond the Fade in over a decade. Why had I deprived myself of this for so long?

And then _The Boxer_ began to play.

It wasn’t a punch to the gut like _The Sound of Silence,_ but rather like slow needles sinking into my flesh.

_I am just a poor boy_   
_Though my story’s seldom told_   
_I have squandered my resistance_   
_For a pocketful of mumbles_   
_Such are promises_   
_All lies and jest_   
_Still, a man hears what he wants to hear_   
_And disregards the rest._

For some reason, the melody and melancholy of the song made me want to cry. I supposed it could have been triggered by the despair I was pretending not to acknowledge. Or, rather, it _was_ from the despair.

_Lie la lie  
Lie la lie lie lie la lie_

By the time _Bridge Over Troubled Water_ came on, I had collapsed on the floor. My abdomen flared in pain as I openly wept. There was no stopping it, no containing it until I had emptied myself of years and years’ worth of suppressed suffering. Bubs could only lay beside me and nuzzle my wet face, occasionally licking my cheek and jaw and neck. It was an ugly mess, and by the time the last, faint sob hiccoughed through my sick stomach, the first side of the vinyl had played completely through.

I rested my hand back by my head as I finally drew in an even breath. Fingers lightly stroked the loose braid snaking across the floor. And, suddenly, my hair felt too heavy, felt too long, felt too _much._

It needed to go. Now.

With Bubba’s help, I unsteadily got back to my feet and flipped the record. While I waited for the first song to start playing, I shuffled to the bathroom and braced myself in front of the vanity to examine my reflection. And shit, I looked like death. Eyes red and swollen, plum instead of violet. Skin gray and gaunt, _vallaslin_ faded and colorless.

After ripping off my glasses, I grabbed the shears “coincidentally” placed near the basin by the same woman who had given me the record player and vinyls. Then I reached behind, grimacing as my wound stretched, and grabbed the cord of white hair. In one swift motion, I cut off what hadn’t been truly cut in over a decade.

The coil dropped to the ground like a dead snake. My hair fell loosely and unevenly, and I grew grimmer. It wasn’t short enough. I started cutting to the tune of _Hazy Shade of Winter_ playing on the record, meaning that the chops were fast-paced and frantic. White pieces of hair fell in a snowy blizzard, and when everything was unevenly close to my scalp, I snatched up the cordless, electric trimmer that appeared amidst my frenzy. The song wasn’t even halfway through by the time I started buzzing.

_Look around_   
_Leaves are brown_   
_And the sky_   
_Is a hazy shade of winter_

_Hang onto your hopes my friend_   
_That’s an easy thing to say_   
_But if your hopes should pass away_   
_Simply pretend_   
_That you can build them again_

When the electric trimmer had made my sides and back even, I took up the shears again and fixed the top of my head, where the hair was thicker and longer.

_Seasons change with their scenery_   
_Weaving time in a tapestry_   
_Won’t you stop and remember me_

_Look around_   
_Leaves are brown_   
_And the sky_   
_Is a hazy shade of winter_

_Look around_   
_Leaves are brown_   
_There’s a patch of snow on the ground_   
_Look around_   
_Leaves are brown_   
_There’s a patch of snow on the ground_   
_Look around_   
_Leaves are brown_   
_There’s a patch of snow on the ground_

With a slightly trembling hand, I set the shears back down and took in my new, drastic change. It was as if I was looking at myself after returning to Kirkwall from the Fade. The haircut I had given myself was nearly the exact same as the one Isabela gave me after I had cut my hair off in a sensory-overwhelmed panic.

I couldn’t help but silently chuckle at the poor little woman in my reflection. It would have turned into hysterical laughter, had I not realized that there was warmth seeping from my wound. Angling my head down, I realized that the injury had reopened in my dissociative state and was now bleeding through the bandages. Not badly, but enough for me to sigh at its sight.

The music was playing so loudly that I didn’t hear other people come in. One second it was just Bubs and me, and the next Sera and Dorian were standing in the entrance of my bathroom, looking all sorts of perplexed at the strange music they were hearing.

“Oh, Alaran,” Dorian uttered when he saw what I had done to both my hair and wound. My face was still ruddy and sticky from all the crying.

Sera leaned against the doorway and sniggered, but her eyes were tight from trying to hide worry. “Ally,” she said bluntly, “you look like absolute shite.”

I laughed the moment a knee gave way. Before I could collapse onto the ground, Sera was there to catch me. I clung to her in a hug. Instead of being typically awkward about personal contact, she kept her arms around me, careful to avoid the injury. I noted that I was as tall as Sera, now, despite her having half an inch on me when the Inquisition was still budding. “Shoulda just asked if ya wanted your hair cut,” she muttered in my ear. I only laughed again.

“Sera,” I said, “I feel like shite.”

“Let’s dust you off get you back into bed, yeah? That way you won’t be Miss Itch from all the hair.”

“And let me see that wound,” Dorian said, walking forward and trying not to warily eye the electric trimmer too much. “If you’ve undone all the hard work I put into keeping you alive—”

“How did you do that, by the way?” I asked as I was guided to a chair by the deep copper tub. “You used magic. And magic—”

“Doesn’t work on you, no,” Dorian finished while he began removing the wrappings. Sera quietly dusted off my bare shoulders and neck with a cloth, listening to the mage take a deep breath. “It surprised me, too. But to answer your question: I was…temporarily possessed.”

My eyes narrowed. “What?”

He shook his head once, eyes trained too hard on my exposed gash. “Everything happened so fast, Alaran. One moment you were fighting, and the next you were on the ground bleeding out. And Maker, there was so much blood. Your ribs had been crushed in two, and…and there was no potion powerful enough to heal anything. Even when I started using magic, I knew it wouldn’t work on you. So—” Dorian cut himself off for a moment, steadied his voice, and continued. “So, I called out. I did something I swore I would _never_ do. I asked for a spirit to help me.

“A demon could have easily crawled in, and their presence most likely wouldn’t have healed you either way. But…but something latched onto me. It wasn’t a demon, o-or even a _spirit._ It was a force, something so basic and ancient that it felt like I was channeling the Fade itself. I didn’t know what happened for a short while after. Only that when the force released me, you were alive and had a chance of survival.”

A breath pushed past my lips. _America_ played in the other room, making my heart hurt. “Wisdom,” I whispered. “She…she’s gone, but she still remembered herself enough after her essence had been returned to the makings of the Fade.” Suddenly I wanted to cry again. Though it ached to speak, I went on. “Magic alone doesn’t influence me. But I’ve always been tied to the Fade, so when…so she used its raw power to bend to your will, Dorian, and infused it with enough of your magic to heal me.” I scratched my throat, but the itch was internal. “It may not be entirely accurate, but I’ve heard it being done before.”

There was a short silence as Dorian made sure everything was still stitched together before applying clean bandages. “The spirit…Wisdom. She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”

I nodded once. _She meant a lot to somebody else, too,_ the silent sentence hanging over our heads said.

Sera ruffled my newly cut hair to break the tension. “Wot’s that music playing? It’s on that… _thingy…_ of yours. Weird. Don’t know how to feel about it.”

Managing a smile, I said, “It’s called a record player. think it’s a gift from Hallah. There couldn’t be anybody else who’d be able to get something from Earth to here.”

“So it really is a contraption from your world?” Dorian questioned, interest piqued. “You must show me how it works.”

Relieved to have the heaviness of the air pushed aside for the time being, the three of us moved from the bathroom back to the main chamber. _Cecelia_ was playing. It was Bubba’s favorite, by far, because he was prancing back and forth and wagging his tail stub while keeping his eyes glued to the spinning record. I got out a long tunic from a dresser drawer and put it on with some assistance. Even though we’ve all seen each other naked at some point or another during our travels, I preferred not standing solely in my underwear.

“Wot’s this do?” Sera said as she touched the volume knob.

“Wait, don’t—” I started, but the rogue had already cranked it up to full volume. She, Dorian, and Bubba scrambled away as the lyrics _“making love in the afternoon, with Cecelia up in my bedroom”_ blasted throughout the chamber. I couldn’t help but laugh at their reactions.

I turned the volume back down to an acceptable level. “It’s just music,” I snickered, “It’s not going to kill you.”

“Yeah, but it’s _loud,”_ Sera grimaced.

“No thanks to you. Nah, man, this is some Simon & Garfunkel. They’re the shit.”

“If they’re shit, then why are you listening to them?” inquired Dorian.

I rolled my eyes. “No. They’re _the_ shit. It’s a good term in English. Means they’re amazing.” I looked at the record player again and grinned. “Man, I haven’t heard them in forever, though. Or these guys, either.” I picked up the other two vinyls and showed it to Dorian and Sera.

“So…they play different music?” Sera cautiously asked. “From different people.”

“Yeah, they do. Nowadays on Earth, you could listen to thousands and thousands of songs just on one device, but this is older technology. Still, the unique sounds it produces is something only a record can achieve.” I started feeling a little dizzy, so I sat down on the side of the bed, wincing at the soreness.

“Do you know how this contraption operates?” Dorian had inched back over to the record player and was closely examining it during _Scarborough Fair._

“Uh, not really. I mean, I’m the most intelligent person I know, but I don’t know everything.”

Dorian loudly snorted. I smirked and gradually moved to lay back down in bed. Fatigue washed over me, and soon I was half-dozing. During some point I heard Varric’s voice and felt his hand hold mine, but didn’t have the strength to open my eyes. Between trying to wake up and say something sarcastic, I fell back asleep as _At the Zoo_ spun on the record.

I wished the misery of loss had subsided. That a haircut and a good vinyl fixed everything.

But it didn’t.

-

Skyhold was…somber. Muted. A heavy air of sadness had sunken into the soil, the stone.

Solas kept his head down as he walked through the lifted gates and into the courtyard. Every part of him had been exhausted, physically and emotionally. He wanted to lie down, wanted to see Alaran and feel her lips on his knuckles…

A shiver ran down Solas’ spine from the sensation that he was being watched. Slightly squinting, he looked to the rookery tower and saw the distinct, hooded figure of Sister Leliana. Her face wasn’t neutral like it commonly was; an underlying disgust made her eyes colder and lips thinner.

Somebody else was watching him. Solas cast his head to his right and noted the commander standing on the ramparts, hand gripping the hilt of his sword as amber eyes blazed with an unusual anger.

An arrow sunk into the ground a foot away from Solas. Instantly recognizing whose arrow it was, he then glanced to the upper tier where the tavern sat. Three distinct figures lined the edge, glaring unflinchingly at him. Sera held her bow in a hand, and Bull and Cassandra had their arms crossed. The city elf murmured something he couldn’t hear, but recognized the movements of her mouth to understand what was said.

_Piece of shite._

Neither Bull or Cassandra moved to argue against her.

Solas faced forward again and started walking, feeling a small sense of dread start to creep into the back of his throat. He locked eyes with Madame de Fer as he ascended the steps to the main hall. She was watching him on the balcony she claimed, appearing regal and controlled. But there was no denying the revulsion that twisted her practiced grace.

His footsteps quickened.

Where was Alaran?

Solas entered the main hall. It wasn’t bustling like it should have been. Light filtered in through the paned windows and shone down on the Inquisitor’s empty throne. Ambassador Montilyet was speaking with two Antivan nobles when she saw him. Her eyes lingered and face tightened almost imperceptibly.

He kept walking.

Blackwall and a couple of soldiers were standing in front of the door that led to Alaran’s private quarters. The Warden saw Solas and straightened as he approached. “Well. He returns to grace us with his presence,” Blackwall said bitingly.

“Please, Warden Blackwall, I do not wish to argue,” Solas said. He fought to rub his brow.

“Oh, there’s nothing to argue. You _left_ her and didn’t look back.” Blackwall had gotten close, now, and was speaking lowly enough that only Solas could hear what was being said. There was real pain in his eyes, real emotion. Real anger. “And do you know what she said to me, when she was bleeding out in my arms?”

The world tilted. Solas’ stomach dropped off a cliff.

“She said, ‘Tell him I’m sorry he lost me, too.’ She was so _fucking_ concerned about your own selfish feelings that—”

But Solas was pushing past Blackwall, ignoring the soldiers, and staggering through the doorway he opened with sweaty palms. Alaran couldn’t have been…She had to be…She _must_ be alive.

Ragged breaths shook Solas’ chest as he climbed up the stairs to Alaran’s chamber. By the time he reached the final door, he was on the verge of mental collapse. It took concentration to pull the handle with a rope attached to it for Bubba’s sake.

Solas had to brace a hand against the old stone wall as he ascended the last sloping flight of steps leading to the wide chamber. He tried to prepare himself for the worst, tried to seal his heart off from any feeling, _and yet—_

Alaran sat propped up on the bed, Bubba at her feet, Varric and Kasi in a chair beside her, Dorian on the couch, and Cole on the indoor balcony.

And yet.

Solas flushed. He stood there, trembling and weak, in front of the woman he loved. In front of the woman he had abandoned.

She stared at him for several moments, expression neutral but breath fast. Eventually, Alaran glanced at Dorian and Varric in a silent command. The two men got up, one carrying his daughter while the other gesturing for Cole to follow them out. Solas stood there, casting his eyes to the ground, as Varric walked past him. Shame sickened his stomach. The dwarf said nothing, but he didn’t need to.

“Cleaving to nothing, crying out to nobody, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone and I am alone.” Cole was mumbling as he and Dorian exited. Solas couldn’t be sure if the spirit was reading his or Alaran’s thoughts.

When the door closed, it was just the two of them.

Alaran didn’t smile at Solas, but she beckoned him to her. He shambled over and fell to his knees at her bedside. Taking her hand, Solas pressed it against his forehead as he quickly lost composure. Alaran didn’t draw away, but neither did she move to touch him of her own will. _“Ir abelas.”_ he said. Gravel was in his throat. _“Ir abelas.”_

A small whine emitted from Alaran as she tried to keep control of her emotions. “You left.”

His face twisted. “Yes,” he confessed to her. There wasn’t a single part of him that was still. Everything was shaking, everything was falling. “Forgive me.”

Solas couldn’t bear to look at her, now. Not when he was this pitiful, this ashamed.

“She was my friend, too, Solas. She was my friend, too.”

Alaran’s own cracked voice made him crumble. Solas clutched her hand as he broke down. Mourning crashed into him as though it were fresh and new. Tears soaked her skin as he freely wept. Muscles ached from overuse, because he didn’t do this, he was too old and used to the feeling of loss. But Wisdom was gone, and Alaran had almost been lost, too. All because of him.

She tugged on his dirty sweater with her free hand. “Come here, _vhenan._ Come here.”

Solas should have protested. He didn’t deserve the divinity before him and the love she gave. He would always disappoint Alaran, hurt and break her until she couldn’t look at him without that hidden look of pain that came with every small smile—

And still, Solas found himself crawling to Alaran’s side, burying his head into the crook of her neck, and inhaling the scent of lavender and poultices. He clutched at the neckline of her faded tunic. Alaran cradled his head close to her, stroking his scalp with a calloused thumb. “Oh, Solas,” she breathed as he clung to her like a driftwood amidst an unending ocean.  “My Solas.”

With haunting serenity, Alaran began to softly sing in Solas’ ear.

_“Elgara vallas, da’len_   
_Melava somniar_   
_Mala taren aravas_   
_Ara ma’desen melar_

_Iras ma ghilas, da’len_   
_Ara ma’nedan ashir_   
_Dirthara lothlenan’as_   
_Bal emma mala dir_

_Tel’enfenim, da’len_   
_Irassal ma ghilas_   
_ma garas mir renan_   
_Ara ma’athlan vhenas_   
_Ara ma’athlan vhenas.”_

By the time Alaran finished the last verse, Solas had fallen asleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, I know that Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits album doesn't actually have those songs in that order, but let's just pretend that it's like that. If you guys don't know exactly what that band is all about, I made up a YouTube playlist with all the songs. You can find it here: www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmasJ9-CieqjZx1oc_6XXL8kyA2aWkr37 (Also, the chapter of Al singing to Solas the Sound of Silence in the Fade is in chapter 11, which seems like an eternity ago)
> 
> And the song Al sings to Solas is Mir Da'len Somniar, a Dalish lullaby. I love Irene Zhong's rendition of it, and you can listen to it here: irenezhong.bandcamp.com/track/mir-dalen-somniar
> 
> Tell me what you guys thought of this chapter!


	63. Battle of the Bitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al and Hana square up

“…The situation between Kirkwall and Starkhaven is escalating…”

“…Informants say that the Venatori are moving towards the Hissing Wastes…”

“…There have been a rising number of earthquakes in the Deep Roads…”

“…People have begun calling your sword Queenkiller, after what happened at Halamshiral.”

I tore my eyes away from the map and stopped absently tracing the scar on my neck with a finger. “What?” I said to Leliana.

The spymaster pretended to ignore my disinterest and expounded. “Though you did not kill Empress Celene personally, many of her more devoted followers generated the rumor that you ran your blade through her yourself.”

“Well, eff,” I murmured. “But dang, that’s a good name. I think I’ll keep it.”

“Of course you would,” Leliana sighed. She sifted through her stack of reports. “There are darkspawn sightings on the Storm Coast. I’ve already sanctioned our Grey Wardens to take care of the problem and seal the tunnels, but wanted to inform you—”

“I want to hear about Hana Amell,” I cut in. Cullen couldn’t help but let out a terse breath.

“She seems to be leading a perfectly normal and nondescript lifestyle,” Leliana replied. “But she’s very cautious. We may never know what her true motives are until it’s too late.”

I looked to Cullen. “Have you two, you know…got in touch again?”

Heat rose to the commander’s cheeks. “No. I do not believe I’d be the best person to gather information from Hana. My actions and opinions may be too biased.”

“Always the logical man, Rutherford,” I said with a dry smirk. “It’s understandable. I’m guessing you haven’t even tried to talk to her, have you? Because you’re too afraid that she might be one of the bad guys. Gals. Persons.”

“My personal life—”

“Is very important to us,” I finished. Cullen looked at me like I was being an annoying younger sister. Though, I wouldn’t know what it’d be like to be a younger sister, seeing as I was an only child. “Don’t worry, Cullen. Once we get this whole matter resolved, you have our permission to pursue her. Right, ladies?”

“Right,” Leliana and Josephine chimed. Cullen exasperatedly shook his head.

“I have too many other priorities to even begin thinking of romantic interests. And Hana—” He stopped short. “I’d…rather not get into it.”

Instead of trying to be more irksome by poking and prodding Cullen even more, I pushed my lips to the side and nodded once. “Alright.”

“How are you feeling today, Inquisitor?” Josephine asked, moving onto another subject before it could get awkward.

“Better, just like I have been for the past week,” I said with a teasing smile. “I’m pretty sad that my epic bruising went away, but hey, what can ya do about that?”

I didn’t ask them what they went through when they saw me carted in on a wagon and unconsciously carried to the healing quarters on a cot. I didn’t need to. Skyhold itself had been affected by my near-death experience, like it had sustained an actual injury. But just as I had recovered, so did the fortress. Still, I was reminded of what might happen to this place if I were to meet an untimely death.

Man, I had to be careful.

“You need to remember that you’re still healing,” Leliana advised. “Cassandra told me you were trying to get her to spar with you yesterday morning.”

“And she refused,” I stated matter-of-factly, looking at the spymaster over round spectacles. “That turd muncher. I feel as fresh as a spring daisy.”

“You were chopped nearly in half just two weeks ago,” Cullen said flatly.

“Okay, that’s an over-exaggeration. I’m. Fine. More than fine. Look!” I untucked my shirt and lifted it up. Josephine immediately grimaced at the wound, but it really wasn’t that bad. The inflammation had vanished completely, and even though there was little bruising, and I could almost fully twist without feeling an uncomfortable pull. “It’s practically as if I hadn’t been injured at all. But I’m losing my six-pack and I really like flexing in the mirror, so I have to start exercising again. _Have to.”_

“I highly doubt that,” said Leliana. “The healer said to rest at least another week before being active, again. Try to adhere to that, Inquisitor.”

I rolled my head back and loudly sighed. _“Fine._ Are we done for today? Or does anybody else have reports to go over?”

The three shook their heads. I lightly slapped the war table to conclude and turned to depart. Cullen joined me as we left. Something was brewing on his fur-clad shoulders.

“Okay, Macklemore, what’s up?” I asked as we passed the gaping hole that displayed the breathtaking view of the Frostbacks.

“Excuse me?”

I snickered to myself about the joke I made before going on. “Dude, come on. Something is up. Wanna talk about it? Now that we’re not in the confines of the War Room?”

Cullen briefly sighed. “It’s not something I want to particularly discuss, no.”

“Then who are you going to talk about it with?”

“Nobody, because I’m not going to talk about it at all.”

I slightly frowned at the commander. We all usually looked stressed, but he seemed especially burdened today. “Hey,” I said, casually punching him in the armored shoulder, “wanna go play a round of chess?”

Cullen was reluctant to answer. “I really should attend to my work—”

“Come on,” I said in my native New York accent, “it’ll be fun. And relaxing.”

“You’re going to interrogate me,” Cullen said back, but there was a faint, eager smile on his lips. “And beat me at chess.”

“Your point is?”

He acted like he had to consider it. “Alright, fine. One round of chess.”

I did a small fist-pump. “Let’s go make history, Rutherford.”

After we got seated in an empty gazebo with a chess table and made a few starting moves, I began talking. “So, what’s got your goat?”

“What’s got my what?”

“You know, what’s bothering you?” I moved another pawn across the board, seeming nonchalant. I still couldn’t decide if I would let Cullen win or not.

He tried to deflect. “I still don’t understand why you’re so concerned about me.”

I scoffed. “I’m unsure if I should take offense to that statement. You’re my bro, Cullen.”

“Bro,” Cullen repeated musingly. His eyes darted across the board, trying to figure out if my move had been casual or part of a greater scheme. “Why does your world have to shorten everything? Why can’t you just say ‘brother?’ It means the same.”

“Stop circling the question, _bro.”_

Cullen gave me a salty look and moved a chess piece, staying silent. “Fine, then,” I sniffed. “I’ll just start taking a gander.” I picked up another pawn and set it elsewhere. “It has something to do with Hana Amell.” The muscle by his lip twitched. He refused to look at me. “You _have_ talked to her, haven’t you?”

“No—not really.”

“Not really?”

“I mean—it was just—we didn’t _actually_ talk.”

I slowly moved a knight. “Then what did you do?”

After briefly chewing the inside of his lip, Cullen said, “You were still unconscious, and the fever from your infection wasn’t breaking. None of the healers could get it to lessen, especially since magic had no effect. I was keeping watch while you slept with Leliana and Varric when Hana entered your room.” He, too, moved his knight. “She told us she had been working on a poultice for you and asked permission to try it. Leliana and Varric were reluctant to let an Otherworlder try, especially since we don’t know her true intentions.”

“But you vouched for her, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help but faintly smile.

“I did, yes. If Hana wanted to harm you, she would make sure you were at your best.”

“I’m sure you can attest to that.”

He silently chuckled. “Hana is…different. She lives by an unspoken, direct code. It isn’t like her to poison someone. Varric was persuaded to let her administer the potion because he was desperate to see you better. Leliana was reluctant and, naturally, tried to intimidate Hana into revealing something she might have wanted hidden. But as I’ve told all of you—if Hana didn’t want something revealed, she wouldn’t let it.”

“Understandable,” I nodded. “So that’s it? You just supported her?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Give me the deets, Rutherford. I need the deets.” I moved another pawn, even when I could have taken a quicker, more efficient path.

“I…went to personally thank her for helping you yesterday morning. O-on your behalf.”

I couldn’t help but let out a half-laugh, half-groan. “Oh, Cullen, you didn’t.”

He was blushing. “I know, I know. It was ill-planned, but...”

“But you just couldn’t help yourself. I get it. Go on, tell me how that went.”

“It went as underwhelmingly as you’d expect it to. Hana noted my thanks, asked me how I was doing, and said that if I needed any potions or poultices to just come to her.”

“Whoa, what? Cullen, that means something. If she didn’t want to see you, she wouldn’t have told you to go to her for potions.”

“Alaran,” Cullen said flatly, “Hana has become one of the top potions master in Skyhold. Everybody goes to her.”

“No, everybody goes to the healers who distribute her potions. She’s the direct source,” I pointed out. “You need to go get something from her. Maybe bring a gift, too?”

“Oh, Maker’s breath, we haven’t seen each other in over a decade. I can’t just pick things up where they left off. There might not be anything _to_ pick up.”

“Well, maybe you _can_ pick up a potion, first,” I suggested.

“Why are you even talking with me about this? For all we know, Hana may be someone who intends to kill you.” Cullen didn’t sound angry with me, but rather exasperated with the situation.

“Hey, man, if Hana wants to kill me, then she’s going to have to wait in line. I want to know why she’s here and who sent her, yeah, but I’m not going to treat her like some foreign object; she’s obviously a human being with real emotions.” I shrugged. “I’m not going to use you to get close to her for the sake of information, Cullen. I’m asking you to get to know Hana because obviously you still care for her. It might just be me, but I consider us friends first, and Inquisitor and Commander second.”

He leaned back in his chair and huffed a breath. “No, I feel the same way. I’ll do what I can and report—”

_“Tell—”_

“—Tell you about what happened.”

I smirked and motioned for Cullen to move another chess piece. “Good.”

There was a short silence as the two of us enjoyed the game instead of distractedly playing it. That is, until Cullen asked, “How are things between you and Solas?”

I pursed my lips. “You mean, ‘how are things between Solas and the rest of Skyhold.’”

“Does it matter?”

After a sigh, I said, “No. I suppose not. Things between us are still a little fragile; he looks at the axe wound like he inflicted it himself. But both of us were grieving, and neither of us were thinking straight. Wisdom…” I bit my bottom lip, knowing that if I talked about her I’d only get more emotional. Already I knew my eyes were that shade of dark purple. Because I didn’t want Cullen to see me tear up, I gave my head a shake and instead said, “He knows I forgive him. He just doesn’t want to be forgiven, yet.”

Cullen’s expression was faraway; he knew a thing or two about thinking the same thing Solas was. “How can you forgive him, though?” the commander surprisingly questioned.

My brows twitched together. “What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t there for you. He says he loves you, and he knows you love him. But how is that an expression of love?” Cullen was speaking as though he wasn’t talking about Solas, not exactly.

I angled my head a fraction and considered the question. “We all do shitty things to the ones we love, Cullen, even when we don’t intend to. But that’s the cool thing about love, I guess; it gives room for forgiveness.”

“You seem to forgive everybody you love,” Cullen muttered as he moved his rook. “And you love a lot of people. It’s going to get you hurt.”

“It already has. And it always will,” I calmly replied. “But I’d rather be hurt than turn away from love. It sounds cliché, but…there’s a sort of miracle in forgiving the ones you love. It makes the world brighter, it makes your life happier. I feel like I shouldn’t be happy, sometimes, because of the position I’m in. There’s so much wrongness in the world that’s up to us to fix, and not always can we fix everything at once. But happiness is always a choice, and I choose to take it whenever I can.” I weakly laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get off-track.” I looked down at the board and found that Cullen had made some good moves. I countered them to stall instead of finish. “I know it’s hard for you guys to forgive Solas, though. You only see what he did, not why he did it or the guilt he has. Just…please try. He’s not a bad person, just a sad one.”

“I will see what I can do,” the commander merely said. I smiled and leaned forward.

“Okay. Now that we have the talky-talk out of the way, let’s get down to business.” To add effect, I popped my fingers and knuckles.

“I can’t believe you just said ‘talky-talk.’”

“Yeah. And you just said it, too.”

-

I knocked the door to Sera’s room before entering. She was lying on her window seat, twirling an arrow between her fingers and rubbing red, blotchy eyes. “Hey,” I said quietly, closing the door behind me after walking through.

“Hey,” Sera said in a thick voice. “Wot the fock you want?”

I sat down on the ground, resting my back against the window seat. “I heard what happened.”

“From who? Fockin Leliana, up there in with all that bird shite?”

“Yeah.”

Sera sniffed loudly. “Dunno why you’re here. Don’t you have important Quizzy things to do? Fock off.”

I only turned and looked to her. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She dropped her arrow and rolled over so her back was to me. “No.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because you’re my friend. Of course I would care about you. Might even go as far to say that I love you. Pranks and plaid and all.”

Sera bunched up, like she was trying to keep herself from crying again. “What went on?”

A few moments of silence passed before she answered. “Stupid focking Dalish thought they were hot shite, goin’ around tellin’ everyone else how elves should act. Make us city elves feel like we’re lower than them, but won’t let us take part in their _elfy_ stuff because we don’t piss in a fockin’ meadow and ride halla. Why should they be better than us? They talk about “The People” this and “The People” that, but they don’t even focking know who they even are. They just act like they do.”

“So you punched the First who was serving as an ambassador to a Dalish clan in the Southron Hills.”

“The bitch deserved it. Told me that I needed to have _vallaslin_ if I wanted to hear what they were talking about.”

It wasn’t the whole story, no, but I didn’t need it. If I wanted an unbiased recount, then I’d just read the report of the minor altercation Leliana had on file.

Sera had a lot of issues. Among them was the internal racism of her own kind. A lot of people mistook it for ignorance and immaturity, but I knew better. Most of the time, she lashed out because nobody listened or took her seriously. Though it didn’t excuse her often rash actions, it was good to acknowledge the explanation behind them and see what could be done differently.

“You still shouldn’t punch people,” I said as I crawled up and sat on the window seat. “Especially if they’re coming to meet with us to aid in our efforts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled sulkily.

I pushed my lips to the side, considering if I should say what I wanted to. I had never told anyone about it, before. Or at least not in the Waking World. Nobody besides Wisdom. “Deep down, I still don’t feel like an elf,” I softly spoke as I examined a familiar hand. “I have the body, and I absolutely love it, but I don’t have an elven heritage. I didn’t earn the _vallaslin_ on my face. I wasn’t born to elven parents, and I’ve spent less than half of my life as an elf. I speak elven, but it’s not _my_ language. I know more about elven history than most elves do, but it’s still not my history. I couldn’t even cast powerful elven magic if I wanted to, because it doesn’t run in my veins.

“But it runs in yours. Everything runs in yours. You have the blood of Arlathan, Sera. You have something ancient within you. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter what the Dalish think; they are but a small piece of the whole.” I leaned my head back against the wall and sighed. “I’m still sorry, though. Me talking a whole lot doesn’t necessarily make things better. I’m not trying to say that you don’t have it as bad; I just want you to know that I completely understand where you’re coming from.”

Sera wiped at her cheeks and sat up so she was opposite of me on the window seat. “You’re alright, Ally,” she weakly smiled.

I rolled my eyes and lightly kicked her with a foot. “Don’t be such a freak, Sera.”

She sniggered through a stuffed nose and kicked me back. “I’m not the one with a glowy vag on my hand.”

“True, true.”

We both shared a laugh before Sera trailed off and turned thoughtful. “Hey, Ally, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Sera suddenly became interested in her calloused palm. “Why do you even wanna be friends with me?”

I tilted my head in confusion. “What?”

“You’re…the Inquisitor. You prolly got a thousand things to worry ‘bout. Sometimes I don’t get why you take the time to make sure I’m okay.”

“Because I have tons of fun with you,” I easily replied. “I know you’ll have my back in just about anything, but you’re not blind to my flaws. You care about a lot of things, even though you don’t like to show it. I don’t like it when people disregard your opinions or background, so that makes me want to be your friend even more. Because if you have my back, Sera, then I sure as hell have yours.” For good effect, I playfully punched her thigh. “Is that a good enough answer for you?”

She was poorly hiding her grin. “Yeah. ‘Spose so.”

-

I had joined Solas in his efforts to track Hana Amell in the Fade. Everything so far had proved fruitless—she knew how to expertly cloak herself in the Fade and barely leave any footprints—but tonight was different. We were able to find her imprinted trail with little difficulty, and even felt the blatant twist of somebody constantly shifting and stitching the Fade to suit them.

“I don’t like the feeling of this,” I said to Solas as we advanced on the newly uncovered region. “It’s almost as if…”

“It’s a trap, yes,” Solas completed. “But if we don’t act now, when will we get another opportunity?”

“A valid point,” I said. A short sigh. “Well, let’s get on with this and find out…whatever we find out.”

Before we began prowling towards the mystery that was Hana Amell, I briefly took Solas’ hand and squeezed it. He returned the gesture. When we let go, I summoned the newly dubbed weapon “Queenkiller.” Solas did the same with his staff.

We cut through the hazy blockade. The smell of the sea and rain on rocks immediately hit my nose. When I came out on the other side, I beheld a foreign, expansive beach with dark sand and a large, singular, craggy stone that seemed to be cut from a volcano. Birds cried on the wind, and inland the sand gave way to green grass and civilization.

“It’s called Piha Beach,” an accented voice said beside me. I sharply looked to my left and side-stepped, but Hana Amell remained perfectly calm as she gazed at the view.

My stomach clenched when I realized that Solas had not come through the haze.

“During the summers, my gran and gramps would drive my cousins and me down here for the weekend to surf,” Hana recounted as her black, basalt eyes surveyed the shore. “Of course, the ocean was nearly in our backyard at home, but there was something special about this place. I think it’s the sand. Or the waves. Or Lion Rock.” She gestured to the old volcanic formation jutting out from the land. “So when I came to Auckland for uni, I enjoyed remembering all the time spent here.”

I remained silent. Hana glanced at me. There wasn’t even a trace of a smile. “You and the Sad Egg Man have been trying to see what I’ve been up to for weeks, now; I thought I’d just show you. It’s not easy recreating an old and expansive memory, even here.”

“What did you do with Solas.” I didn’t speak the sentence like a question.

“He’s still walking through the haze. I did not want to deal with him and you simultaneously.”

My hand tightly gripped the hilt of Queenkiller. “And what do you intend to do with me, exactly.”

Hana looked at me directly, this time. Black, unbound hair curled with the sudden breeze. A chill swept through me. “I thought that was obvious. I’m here to kill you. I just wanted to get a last view of a fond place if you did manage to kill me, first.”

I brought my sword up and moved into a fighting stance. Hana remained still. “You could have killed me when I was unconscious,” I said with rapid calm. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m not that type of person.”

I mirthlessly smirked. “That’s what Cullen said about you, too.”

Even the mention of her former lover did nothing to stir emotion in Hana. At least not outwardly. “I’ll make this quick, Inquisitor.”

Something _ripped_ my sword from my hands and forced repelled me backwards. I landed on the wet sand and struggled to rise as Hana approached. She was pulling on a thousand strings in the Fade with the utmost ease. It would have been an amazing thing to watch, had I not been facing the prospect of death. The cords dug into skin and constricted my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Amell towered over me. She held out an empty hand and summoned an uncut glass blade. It would have been completely translucent if it didn’t gather falsified sunlight. Hana raised it above her, ready to drive it into my body at any second.

Unable to conjure anything myself, I desperately looked around and saw that a black volcanic rock was miraculously near my temple. I reared back as best I could and bashed my skull against it to induce pain. _I would not die here._

It was enough to shock me into waking up.

I jolted upright and looked around, feeling my freed limbs. Solas was still trapped in the Fade, presumably untouched by Hana. It was actually a good thing; he wouldn’t put himself in harm’s way when I went and faced Hana Fucking Amell.

After putting on glasses, trousers, and boots, I ran fingers through short hair and took a breath. I had truly been hoping that things wouldn’t come to this. _But what must be done,_ I supposed.

Bubba had awoken and was looking at me with concern. “Stay here and watch over him,” I instructed, pointing to the elf on our bed. “If he tries to leave, stop him.”

He cocked his head but made no noise. I scratched behind my hound’s ear and smooched his forehead before straightening and focusing on the grim task at hand.

I strapped Queenkiller to my back and slid a dagger in my boot. Then I gave Solas a kiss on the lips and strode out of the dark chamber. As I made my way to the main hall, I told myself that I wasn’t going to die. Not at the hands of Hana Amell. I had just dealt with a near-death experience already; I was good for a while until the next one. And out here, she didn’t have the Fade to help her. She didn’t have the advantage of using magic against me. She was just a woman.

But “she’s just a woman” was always what people thought about me before I completely destroyed them.

Skyhold was silent and empty as I walked through it. A thick spell had been diffused through the main and ground levels, putting everyone and everything on it to sleep. Soldiers who should have been on duty now lay unconscious. It attested to Hana’s sheer power.

The Otherworlder was waiting in the lower courtyard. She was leaning on a staff aglow with mage light. It harshly illuminated the area and forced me to squint my eyes. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

“Because it needs to be done.”

“Well, that’s vague.”

Hana reached into the pocket of the jacket she wore and pulled out a rectangular device. My brows couldn’t help but crawl up my forehead. “Is that a…?”

“Phone? Yes,” Hana monotonously replied as her thumb dashed across the screen. “It was a gift for my birthday. I got a Bluetooth speaker too.” She pointed the end of her staff to the left. And sure enough, I saw a sturdy black box with a blinking blue light on the top of it. “I like a little background music before getting to work.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Oh, Hana Amell,” I sighed, “I really wish we could have gotten to know each other beforehand.” My greatsword was then drawn.

She didn’t respond. That was expected. Instead Hana chose a familiar song that made my smirk grow. “A classic, for sure,” I commented. _“Free Bird_ reminds me of the summer of my freshman year of high school. The Hamptons makes for a great rebellious phase.”

Hana merely looked back at me and tossed her phone by the speaker. She then drove her stave into the ground and took off her coat. I, meanwhile, started tapping my foot to the intro of the classic rock song. “You know, maybe we don’t even have to fight. Why don’t we just talk—”

In one fluid and brutal motion, Hana picked up her staff again and blasted me with several spikes of ice. They only shattered into crystalline pieces upon impact. I ignited Queenkiller and dove forward, ready to strike Hana down. She blocked my sword with her staff, whirled it, and tried to trip me up. I side-stepped and hacked so hard that her staff immediately broke in two. Hana grunted and nearly bent a knee from the force. I lifted my sword again to end the quick fight when she clapped a broken piece of her staff against the side of my head. I cried out as I was temporarily deafened in one ear from the blow. Hana hit my arm as I used it to block another strike and then punched her square jaw. She dropped the other part of her broken staff, but managed to stop the swing of my sword by gripping my wrist. Before I could maneuver out of it, she twisted hard and made me lose my hold.

I yanked out my dagger and tried not to show that my left arm was aching from the damage it had been dealt. One side of my face was still numb. All the while, _Free Bird_ continued to play. It had barely even finished its first set of lyrics.

Hana defended herself with surprising swiftness for her size. She seemed to possess the same type of strength I did, if not slightly more. The only way I could keep up with her was through the Reaver raging inside me. I didn’t have to hold back, though, meaning that my attacks were brutal and concise. But so were Hana’s. It was like trying to fight a tsunami; she was everywhere at once and entirely overwhelming.

It was almost as if I would lose this fight.

But that was a silly thought.

The same moment Hana had gone for a feign I imposed did I drive my dagger down to her chest. But she saw it coming before it was too late and dodged out of the way. The dagger instead sunk into her upper shoulder, glancing off bone and lodging there. Hana finally produced a hoarse scream and staggered backwards. I spat the blood in my mouth from an earlier punch and lunged to grab her loose black hair. If Hana didn’t have the concentration to cast a spell, she wouldn’t be able to heal herself. That’d be the last thing I needed; an enemy that could heal themselves while I was worn down.

I shoved her head down so my knee could forcefully connect with her nose. There was a familiar _crunch_ of cartilage breaking. She collapsed to the ground when I let go. While Hana was dazed, I steered her over to the stone wall near the front gate of Skyhold. The grip on her hair was nearly lost when I shoved Hana’s face into the uneven stone so hard it cracked one of the bricks. Without hesitating, I brutally drug her across it. Hana, still miraculously conscious, moved her arms about in a fruitless attempt to stop me. If I kept this up a little bit longer, I’d somehow find a damn way to knock her—

Hana’s hand found the hilt of my dagger still embedded in her shoulder. She yanked it out, powerfully twisted her body, and tried sinking my own weapon into my neck. I narrowly avoided it and let myself be thrown off balance by her force. Because I still had my fingers knotted in her hair, she was drug down as I fell. Instinctively, Hana let go of the dagger in place of catching herself. My skull cracked against her elbow and made me see stars.

Then Hana was on top of me, bringing her fists down on my face. She cracked and broke my poor glasses. I managed to buck and roll her off me, but not before blood started gushing out my nose and mouth. One eye was already beginning to swell shut.

Hana got to her feet before I could. I dove for the dagger lying nearby, but she kicked it out of reach. And as I turned my gaze to the bleeding Maori woman towering over me—this time in the Waking World—one thought crossed my mind.

_Oh, shit._

I was almost successful in getting upright. But a swift kick to my side hit the spot where I had been bludgeoned with an axe only a couple weeks ago. I screamed, but that was cut off short by another violent kick. I landed hard on my back again and felt my bones rattle. Hana had found my weak spot. My Achille’s Heel. And boy, did she not ease up on it.

Three more kicks had me rendered completely defenseless. There was no doubt that my wound had reopened. My hands were slow to move as I tried prying Hana’s hand off my collar while she drug me through the gate and onto the long bridge connecting Skyhold to the rest of the Frostbacks. In the background, _Free Bird_ had gone into its electric guitar solo.

Hana moved her hand from my shirt to my throat when I managed to get a punch in. The Reaver within was the only thing keeping me from unconsciousness. But it alone couldn’t provide airflow needed to stay alive.

Instead of choking me out, Hana lifted me off my feet and drug me over the side of the bridge. One moment I was on solid ground, and the next I was dangling hundreds of feet in the air. Hana didn’t even seem bothered by holding up dead weight with her arm at a ninety-degree angle. Her nose was broken and most of her face was cut up and glistening with blood from being smeared into the wall.

I clung onto her wrist as I struggled to breathe. In the moment, I couldn’t help but give a choked-off laugh. After everything I’ve been through—the trials, the lies, the near-deaths—I was going to die at the hands of an Otherworlder. How fitting.

“Go ahead. Do it,” I rasped. “Make your patron proud.”

Hana’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “We have the same patron.”

“You think Hallah Lynne is your patron? I haven’t seen the bitch since you showed up. Why would she want you to kill me?”

Her grip lessened. I instinctively squeezed tighter.

“Tellan is the one who sends Earthlings here. You think I’d believe that he didn’t put you here to fuck up this world? I’ve been making sure others sent by him don’t ruin this place for years, now; you’re not any different. I won’t see you run the Inquisition into the ground and bring nations with it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? _Hallah Lynne_ is my patron. I don’t fucking know who this Tellan is. Probably one of the bad ones, right?” In a fit of frustration, I said to Hana, “I fucking hate being a fucking Otherworlder, okay? And every day I’ve wondered if somebody like you was going to come along and try to fucking kill me because we’re just little pawns in the grand scheme of their game. This Tellan of yours? I don’t belong to him. I belong to Hallah. So either _drop me_ and do what your patron probably wants you to do, or put me down so we can fucking talk about everything like fucking _civilized_ people.”

Hana sincerely and intensely considered letting me fall into the black ravine below. But after the corner of her lip twitched and fingers slightly flexed did she draw me back onto the stone bridge. I landed like a sack of potatoes, coughing and gulping for air. I could barely see out of the left eye because it was so swollen, and my side was throbbing with scorching pain. Honestly, I wanted to fucking die.

It made me feel a little bit better, though, seeing Hana half-collapse next to me. She raised a hand to heal herself and found that she was unable to concentrate enough to cast. My laugh sounded like a cat hacking a hairball. Hana gave me the side-eye.

“Fuck off, fuck knuckle,” she breathed. Her slang only made me laugh more. It quickly turned into painful coughing, but I thought it was worth it. And amusingly enough, _Free Bird_ hadn’t even finished its long-ass song. What _was_ finishing its duration was the sleeping spell placed over Skyhold. I could feel the magic dissipating, meaning that people would soon see what we had done to each other.

When I managed to catch my breath again, I said rather wearily, “So. Yeah. There are these fuckwad immortals who send us here. I think I have one on the better side, though, from what I can compare with yours. Yours seems like a dick.”

“You said her name was Hallah?”

“Please, don’t say her name too many times. It only makes her stronger.” I prodded my swollen eye and grimaced. “But yeah. She’s the one who took me from my body on Earth and sent me here. Same with the Hero of Ferelden. We both technically “died” on our home world, giving us the chance to be here.”

“The Hero of Ferelden?” Hana repeated. The only surprise she showed was in her voice. “Huh. I never would have guessed.”

“Me either. He tried killing me when he found out where I was from, too. Apparently an Otherworlder sent by an immortal wanted to murder him and rule the world. Or something like that. I’m a little fuzzy on the details; I haven’t asked Morrigan or Alistair more on it. So, naturally, when you came along, I thought you were going to kill me. And hey, guess I was right.”

“For the wrong reasons,” Hana curtly replied. Before going on, she grabbed her nose and yanked it back in place. I raised an eyebrow while she released a guttural growl. It took a lot to realign your own nose, I had to give her that. “Tellan likes sending people here to corrupt and destroy things. For fun, mostly. He did it to the Nevarran court. He did it in Orzammar. He did it in the Starkhaven Circle. And he was doing it in Rivain when I first arrived there. I rooted out the Earthling and made sure they wouldn’t cause any more trouble, but it started me on the path of correcting the wrongs of my kin. And so far, I haven’t seen an end.”

“How many people?” I asked quietly.

“Ten.”

I lowly whistled. “Damn. And they were all doing bad things?”

“More or less.” Hana was silent for a moment. “But now I’m beginning to think that maybe I had the wrong idea entirely. Some of them might not even have been from Tellan.”

“Eh, don’t do that to yourself,” I sighed. “It just makes things harder to grasp. And anyways, how are you even able to go against a patron who’s probably a bad guy? What makes you so different from the others? How do you know you’re not being used?”

“I eventually found out that I was originally sent to upend Kinloch Circle and destroy any chances of the Grey Wardens getting help from the mages. Like how they do in the game. You played it, right?”

“The first and the second. The shit I’m in how is completely new to me.”

“I didn’t finish this one before dying. But yes. Once I realized what I was being set up to do, I got the fuck out of there. Nobody was going to use me for their own game. I am not some toy. I may be mortal, but I refuse to be a puppet.”

“Easier said than done.”

Hana softly snorted. “That’s a phrase only for quitters.”

I wasn’t prepared to suddenly laugh, so it hurt my whole body when I did. “Ah, poop,” I groaned through the pain. “Damnit.”

“You’re immune to magic,” Hana stated, ignoring my writhing. “I’ve met a few others like you. It comes in handy. It can also be a real bitch.”

“I know. I know.” After a few sharp hisses, the pain eventually subsided so I could function again. Hana prodded her knife wound and cast a simple healing spell to stop it from bleeding. Then, rather abruptly, she reached inside her breast band and pulled out something small and white. I squinted to make sure I was actually seeing what I thought it was.

Hana used a single finger to conjure a flame and light the end of the blunt she held. She put it up to her lips, inhaled, and blew out a soft stream of smoke. I recognized the pungent smell of weed and couldn’t help but laugh again.

“You partake of the devil’s lettuce, I see,” I said as I watched her. For the first time since meeting her, I saw Hana smile. She offered it to me.

“Yeah. My patron is a dick, but he likes me enough to give me stuff. You want some?”

I waved a hand. “No thanks. I get high on life.”

She realized I was joking and chuckled before drawing in another smoke. “It’ll help with the pain.”

“Isn’t that always the excuse?”

“Only sometimes.” Hana glanced at my blood-stained side from the wound she had reopened. “Sorry for kicking your injury and breaking your glasses.”

“It’s all good. I’m sorry for trying to bust your skull and stabbing you.”

 _Free Bird_ had finished playing by now, and I heard soldiers on the ramparts beginning to stir from their sudden nap. We’d be found, soon, if we didn’t leave. But with the condition both of us were in, getting up and walking away wasn’t exactly an option.

In the space of about nine minutes, Hana and I beat the shit out of each other, one of us almost died (me), accused the other of being the bad guy, and were now sitting side-by-side while she smoked what my school’s D.A.R.E. officer called “The Gateway Drug.”

“Hana Amell,” I said as I leaned my head against the stone and closed my good eye, “I think this is may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy everyone, sorry I've been off the radar for a while. If you don't follow me on Tumblr, you wouldn't have seen the reason why. Well, folks, I'm engaged to be married! Being with my home boy and making preparations has taken priority. But I've wanted to get this chapter posted for the longest time. Two badass ladies beating each other up. Also, somebody who can finally kick Al's ass?? It's a slight turn-on for her. 
> 
> I didn't want the scene between those two take away from Al and Sera's conversation. That shiz is deep. A lot of people don't understand Sera (both in the game and in the fandom), but Al does. Or, at least she makes the effort to try to. 
> 
> And if none of you have heard the song "Free Bird," I'll try to refrain from asking what is wrong with you. It's a true rock classic. Listen to its good jams here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np0solnL1XY
> 
> And, as always, I hope all you guys are staying lovely.


	64. Damning Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al has to deal with Blackwall's actions

Hana got the short end of the stick. She was finishing her joint (which was pretty mild stuff, she informed me) when she was nearly squeezed to death by a crushing prison. Solas eventually awoke, got past Bubba, and saw the remnants of our battle in the courtyard. Before I could explain anything, he had viciously trapped Hana within the confines of invisible bars.

It all worked out, though. While neither he nor Bubs was pleased at my bloody and bruised appearance, I assured them that Hana was alright. Of course, I had to assure them _repeatedly_ before Solas let Hana loose. She then promptly got up, told us she was going back to sleep, and limped away. I said goodbye to her, but she only responded with an incoherent mumble as she walked.

Solas wanted to immediately take me to the healer’s, but I was adamant about going back to the room and nursing my wounds in private. Because, after all, I didn’t want anybody to know that I just had my little white ass completely _handed_ to me. I’d be chunks of body parts floating down a narrow river in the middle of the night if I hadn’t said the right thing at the right time.

So instead I had my lover carry me back up the stairs piggy-back style with Bubba trailing behind. We avoided any groggy soldiers who were still trying to figure out why they had all fallen asleep. Leliana and Cullen would hear about what happened to them—and see the small aftermath of Hana’s and my fight. I’d give them answers when I wasn’t such a wreck.

“You were being rash,” Solas had to say as he gently laid me down on my bed. I still winced and tensed in pain.

“I did what needed to be done,” I replied through clenched teeth. “And I know you would have done the same, so don’t get preachy.”

“I’m not being preachy,” Solas said, trying to keep the terseness out of his voice. “I’m merely stating a fact. You should have waited.”

“For what?” I asked as I watched him peel my bloody tunic up so we could examine my side. “Oh,” I commented, “that’s not so bad.”

“No, but it could have been completely avoided,” Solas snipped. I threw my head back into the pillow and groaned.

“Oh my gosh, you need to chill the fuck out. _Maybe_ I should have tried to wake you up, and maybe I should have at least brought Bubba, but did I die? Uh, no.”

Solas’ jaw twitched. My brow sharply raised. “Hana was going to kill you,” he said, voice growing more concise. A fight was brewing. “She _is_ fully capable of killing you. Your blindness towards your own weaknesses in battle will be your downfall. You are still severely injured, and yet you acted as though you were in perfect condition.”

“How was I supposed to know that Hana is a fucking _beast?_ I’m capable of killing her too—but neither of us did that! I don’t see why you’re trying to start a damn argument with me.” I kept my one good eye trained on Solas as he abruptly got up and went to my dresser. There were still copious amounts of potions, poultices, and tonics still sitting on it to help me heal, so I watched him take a few familiar ones and carry them back to the bedside.

He began applying a creamy paste to my wound. “After all that has happened, you still believe that you must do everything on your own. As time goes on, it will only put you in more and more danger.”

“I didn’t think to myself ‘I need to do this on my own’ when I was going down there,” I argued. “There’s a difference between that and trying to deal with a sudden situation as best I can. And in case you forgot, we were in the Fade _together_ trying to solve everything. Together, Solas. Don’t mistake an unforeseen circumstance for a preemptive choice.”

“Yet you always make the choice to do most things on your own,” Solas went on as he scooped more of the poultice on a couple fingers. He leaned over to slather it on my swollen and throbbing eye. “It’s worrisome, Alaran, and often frustrating.”

It was stonily quiet for a few moments. There were a lot of things I wanted to say, a lot of things I wanted to bring up that would make Solas and me hurt. But, instead of deciding to keep fighting, I exhaled and closed my other eye. “I’m not perfect,” I muttered. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” Because, in the end, that was why he was angry. My disappearance and eventual physical state had frightened him, and now he was mad because he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel relief just yet. I wasn’t new to the feeling; those I loved had done it to me, and I obviously did it the ones who loved me.

Solas continued to apply the cooling poultice in silence for a little while. I was in bad shape, because he had to put something somewhere on nearly my entire body. I stared up at the ceiling, mind soon drifting from personal matters to work. Soldiers in the Western Approach were getting a shipment of supplies needed the Grey Wardens to tend to darkspawn threats. The Exalted Plains was stabilizing, but summer brought wildfires, and wildfires burned crops. I wanted to set and a mage-and-soldier taskforce to fight them. The High Dragon we relocated to the Frostbacks was spotted with bigger babies, but so far none of them had terrorized any surrounding villages. Venatori cells were popping up all over the Hissing Wastes, and my advisers and I agreed that a campaign there in the near future would be good. It seemed that was where Corypheus was aiming his attention, meaning that we needed to be there to combat it. Most of the doors to the ancient temple in the Forbidden Oasis had been opened, thanks to shards collected by multiple Inquisition scouts and scholars. The campaign would most likely sweep down there, too.

Oh. And then there was Kirkwall. And Starkhaven. And Sebastian Vael.

I put a hand to my forehead. “We’re going to have to defend Kirkwall from being annexed by Sebastian’s army,” I confessed to Solas. By now he was coming from the bathroom, having washed his hands of the numerous medicinal substances.

“Truly?” It was the first thing he had said to me for the past ten minutes.

A nod. “Sebastian isn’t backing down, and neither is Aveline. Both have personally sent me missives asking for the Inquisition’s help in defeating the other.” I waved a hand to my desk. “The letter Vael sent me came two days ago; it should be on top of everything.”

Solas obliged. He crossed to the desk, surveyed the top of it for a second, and picked up the loosely rolled parchment with a broken Starkhaven seal. Wandering back over, Solas unrolled it and began reading the content out loud.

“’To Inquisitor Lavellan and the Inquisition.’” Solas glanced at me and said, “Alarming. I’ve seen some of his previous letters to you; they’ve never been this formal.”

“Oh, keep reading,” I chuckled humorlessly.

“’Thanks to your efforts, the worst of the mage rebellion is now past. However, the mage who started it all, who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall, murdered Grand Cleric Elthina and dozens of the innocent faithful, and nearly obliterated you and I in the process, is still at large. The fanatic Anders must be brought to justice. Though he may no longer be in the city, it is still home to many of his known associates. The Champion, who has returned to his home estate, refuses to inform me of his whereabouts. The city allows him to aid in the protection of a wanted criminal, and does nothing to put an end to it. I have thus resolved to occupy Kirkwall to locate Anders. But Starkhaven’s annexation of this troubled city has not proceeded as planned. Captain Vallen insists on rallying her guards and citizens to form a resistance that opposes me. They forget that I do this for the good of the city and all the Free Marches. As a staunch ally of the Inquisition, I entreat support for this endeavor, that Kirkwall may be brought under control before more innocents are harmed.’”

Solas took a breath before reading the last part. “’Let logic guide you, Inquisitor Lavellan, and remember what Anders is. What he has done. To the city. To us. Remember, and act. Signed, Sebastian Vael.’”

My teeth strained against one another as I clenched them. “That was…” Solas started.

“Insulting? Awful? A downright joke? I could go on; I have a lot of descriptions for it. Sebastian is being a little bitch about all this. Unfortunately, when you’re being a little bitch _and_ the acting king of Starkhaven, you can do a lot of damage.” I swallowed to calm my rising voice. “The worst thing is that he honestly thinks that I’ll help him. It’s like he’s forgotten what I stand for. What _we_ stood for, all those years ago. Kirkwall was my home. His home. Why would he believe that I want to help bring it to its knees? All because of Anders? Who—and I know this for a fact—isn’t even there.”

“Have you spoken to him recently?”

I sighed. “No. But I asked Hawke, and he told me he wasn’t.”

“Was he being truthful?”

“About something like this? Yeah. At least Garrett knows which side I stand on.”

Solas returned the letter to my desk and was now putting The Head and the Heart’s vinyl on the record player. “What side is that?”

“The side that protects my friends to the best of my ability. Nations would want to see Anders’ head on a spike. I don’t. And luckily for Anders, I’m the one who stands between him and them. Whether he knows it or not.”

“Including Sebastian? A friend? If you still consider him that, after all this.”

I had to think on my words. “Yes, including Sebastian. He doesn’t recognize it, yet, but my opposition to his beliefs is still protecting him.”

“How so?” Soft, indie folk music started playing. Solas returned to the side of the bed where I lay.

“I’m protecting him from himself.”

“Will he look at it that way?”

“No. He won’t.”

Solas absently reached over and started scratching Bubba’s head, who was dozing next to us. “When do you plan to act?”

“Soon. Very soon. I was going to get the specifics with the advisers, but by the time we get moving Sebastian’s informants will have told him who we’d be aiding. He has a strong army. But so do we. I hope that he’ll be smart about everything.” I ended the sentence as though I was going to say more. Solas immediately picked up on it.

“Except?”

“Sebastian was never known for being coolheaded. He was never known for being cruel, either. We’ll see which one he abides by more.”

“And if you have to engage him?” Solas moved over and laid down beside me. I grabbed his hand and twined my fingers through his.

“Then we’ll engage him. And win.”

-

Blackwall came up to me as I was examining the giant crack in the wall made by Hana’s head. Her blood was still smeared across it, but maintenance was coming to clean it up in a bit.

“Maker, I can’t imagine how the other lady looks,” he chuckled. I had a fresh pair of spectacles—actually, just a fucking drawerful, I found—but my face was still a little jacked up.

“Probably better than I do, seeing as she can heal herself with magic,” I easily laughed. We both looked to the mage tower where Hana Amell resided.

“Heard she almost killed you.”

“Who told you that?”

“Leliana told Cassandra and Cassandra told me during our morning sparring session.”

“Wow. Okay. But yeah, I’m not gonna lie about it. Hana nearly chucked me off the bridge. She’s a monster. And we’re going to be best friends.”

Blackwall nodded in agreement and scratched his beard. “Hey, you want to get a drink? I’ve a hankering for company.”

I didn’t display any concerned emotion on my face, but I heard something troubling in Blackwall’s voice. “Sure,” I said with a small smile, “I’ve got the time.”

We made our way to the Rest and got a seat at the bar. It was still fairly early in the afternoon, so the crowd was dismal. Cabot didn’t give either of us a warm welcome; the grumpy bartender merely put some swill in front of Blackwall and a mug of water in front of me.

I took a drink and waited for him to start talking. He didn’t look me in the eyes when he did. “When I was a boy, there were these urchins who ran in the streets near my father’s house. One day, they found  a dog. A wretched little thing. It came to them for food. They caught it, tied a rope around its neck, and strung it up.” He turned his head to me. “Do you know what I did?”

“You stopped it. Cut the dog down.” I spoke the words, but I knew it wasn’t right.

“I did nothing. Not a damn thing,” Blackwall growled. “It was crying. I saw the kicking legs, the neck straining and twisting. And I turned around, went inside, and closed the door. I could have told my father, or alerted someone. I didn’t. I just pretended it wasn’t happening.” His expression was pained.

I felt compassion furrowing my brows, making my eyes soft, voice gentle. “You said you were just a boy, Blackwall.”

He only twisted his lips into more of a self-loathing snarl. “I was old enough to know the dog was suffering and it was wrong. I may as well have tied the noose myself.” He glanced down at his balled fist before looking at me again. “We could make the world better,” Blackwall said slowly. “It’s just easier to shut our eyes.”

I leaned forward an inch. “When we first met, you were saving peasants from demons and outlaws,” I firmly reminded. “That doesn’t sound like somebody who has their eyes shut.”

He sadly chuckled. “Look at you. You would’ve done the right thing. We’re lucky there are people like you in the world.” Blackwall grew grim again. “There’s always some dog out there in the world. Some fucking mongrel that doesn’t know how to stay away.”

“Hey,” I said quietly, making sure that nobody in the almost-empty tavern could overhear, “What’s the matter? You can tell me, man.”

He only downed his drink in a few gulps, muttered, “Nothing,” and walked away.

But I knew that look. That remorse. I had dealt with it a hundred times. His past was catching up to him. He was going to let himself drown in it.

-

The advisers, well, _advised_ against me going to Val Royeaux in pursuit of Blackwall. Not only would we be sailing for Kirkwall in a week, but nobody had any idea what I could be walking into. The only thing we had to go off of was a crumpled report of a man being hung due to his involvement in the Callier Massacre.

I remembered the massacre. It was the talk of every tavern, inn, and shop in Orlais. I was still traveling with the Valo-Kas, then. Being part of a mercenary band, I heard about how much of a disgrace it was to have a captain abandon his men for following his orders. It was a disgrace, a shame, and the captain should have fallen on his sword the second he turned his back on his men. This was coming from a bunch of Qunaris, of course—who are generally an extremely intense race—but I understood why they thought what they did.

Even if I couldn’t figure out what Blackwall’s involvement was, exactly, I knew it had something to do with that. And _that_ wasn’t good.

So now I was sitting on a ship headed for the Orlesian city with Cullen, Cole, Cassandra, and Varric. Normally, we would have taken one of our own ships to Val Royeaux. But because all those ships were being prepared to hold and feed more than three thousand troops, we were stuck with sailing on a commercial one.

And a commercial ship meant being confined to tiny, narrow spaces.

“Hey Cassandra,” I called as I sat on the very top of the triple-bunked bed. My head grazed the leaky roof even as it angled down while I rummaged through my pack. The Seeker was below me, then Cole. Cullen and Varric were across from us on another bunk shoved into the little room. Cullen was tossing helplessly on his too-small bed and Varric was snoring loudly from the seasickness potion I had given him before we set sail.

“Yes, Inquisitor?”

“Remember when we first went to Val Royeaux together on a ship like this?”

“I believe our room was bigger, but yes. I do.”

“Seems like forever ago, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

I found what I was looking for in my pack and pulled it out. “Here, Cass.” I leaned down over my bunk and handed her a bound sheaf of papers.

“What is this?”

“I know you finished the most recent edition of _Swords & Shields. _I also know that Varric isn’t even halfway through the first draft of the next. So.” I took a deep breath, unable to keep myself from grinning. “I took it upon myself to help you get through this troubling time. Right here in my hand is a fanfiction of the saucy novels, written by me and edited by Solas.”

Across from us, Cullen boyishly snorted.

Cassandra blushed and glanced at the snoring dwarf whose books she loved so much. “Alaran, I do not think—”

“Girl, take it and read it. You know you want to. I poured my heart and soul into this. Or, well, three hours during the week. It’s a one-shot with a surprise birthday party, an attempted murder, a steamy scene by the docks, the foiling of a citywide plot, and an even steamier scene in the Guard Captain’s office. But, I mean, if—”

The fanfic was snatched out of my hands. Cassandra mumbled a thank you, rolled over, and started straining her eyes to read it. “Red-faced and reveling, you feel guilty and happy and I don’t understand? Why would you be guilty because you’re happy?” Cole muttered from below Cassandra’s and my bunk.

“She doesn’t understand, either, honey,” I replied as Cassandra made a struggling noise. “I indulged one of her guilty pleasures. Free of charge. Honestly, though, it’s publish-worthy.”

“Guilty pleasures?”

“Yeah. It’s something that somebody likes even if it doesn’t really align with their personality. For example, my guilty pleasure is eating late-night sweets even after I brushed my teeth. The kitchen has even learned to stock up on desserts for me to eat. Does that make sense?”

“…A little.”

“Okay, well, let me give you another example. See, _Cullen’s_ guilty pleasure is—”

“—Alaran—”

“—staring at Hana Amell from afar.”

Cassandra and I shared a few good snickers while Cullen scowled at me. Cole, instead of asking more about the nuances of human nature, said, “She sees glimpses of him, quick and quiet, and she feels like she’s back in the Tower where they danced around each other with heavy feet and an awkward tune. He was, is a beacon, a ray in a dark ocean, and how could he ever look her way again? She’s different, he’s different, the world is different. She said she loved him, stupid. Stupid because she did love him, because she knew what was going to happen, what would happen to him—”

“Cole,” I spoke gently. “You shouldn’t be repeating Hana’s thoughts.”

He was silent for a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Cullen, not knowing what else to do, turned his back to us and lay still on the bed. I frowned but said nothing. We still had a few hours before we made it to Val Royeaux. I didn’t want to make it more awkward and tense.

Cole, meanwhile, began humming a tune.

-

_I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am._

_I gave the order. The crime is mine._

_I am Thom Rainier._

And now I stood in front of the imprisoned man who had lied to himself, the Inquisition, the world. Rusty bars separated us, but he wouldn’t have come near me even if there weren’t. His head was hung low and shadows veiled his face. I wouldn’t have been able to see his expression of sorrow and despair had it not been for my eyesight.

Blackwall didn’t need to look at me to know I was there. “I didn’t take Blackwall’s life. I traded his death,” he confessed brokenly. I folded my arms over the crisp Inquisition uniform I had donned. “He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But a good man, the man _he_ was, wouldn’t have let another die in his place.”

“And you think dying makes up for it.” My voice was hoarse as I tried to keep my emotions from clouding the senses.

“Isn’t it a start?” Blackwall looked at me. “Why are you here?”

“I needed you to know you aren’t alone in this.”

Blackwall suddenly lunged forward and banged his fists on the iron bars. I flinched at the noise, but nothing else. “Don’t you understand?” he yelled. “I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing! When it came to light, _I ran._ Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!” He bowed his head and spoke with utter disgust. _“This_ is what I am! A murderer, a traitor…a monster.”

He let out a soft sob when my hands placed themselves over his but didn’t draw away. That was good. “You are more than what you claim to be,” I spoke. “The man I’ve seen has saved countless lives. He has believed in the Inquisition’s cause, _believed_ in building a better world.” I took a breath. “And he has believed in me, through and through.” I cast my eyes downward for a second. “There’s something I haven’t told you. And I think it’s about time you should know.

“From the first moment we met, I’ve known that you weren’t a Grey Warden.”

His head snapped up, blue eyes wide. I let my hands drop so I could rub a brow. “It’s not a secret that I can sense the taint. Blighted things and people. The exposure to red lyrium did something to me all those years ago. But…I decided that your secret was not mine to tell, and you’d tell the truth when you were ready.”

“Why?” Blackwall rasped. “Why did you put all this faith in me when you knew I’d break it?”

I gave him a soft look despite the hard press of my lips. “Because we liars have to stick together. If I wanted to punish you, then by all means I should have punished myself a long time ago. I…know what it’s like to believe the world will hate you if your secrets are brought to light. I mean, shit, man, I’m from another damn world. If it hadn’t been for the Anchor, I’m almost positive that things would have turned out very differently.”

“But you didn’t hide that you were a murderer. You didn’t run while those who trusted you suffered and died for your crimes.”

“You don’t know that.” My voice was just above a whisper. Blackwall stared at me despairingly for several moments before silently moving back to the wooden slab that served as a bed. I cleared my throat and adjusted my glasses. “We’re going to get you out of here. I’m not going to let you rot in prison or sway on a noose in the breeze. Even if you want that. Because the Inquisition still needs you.” I began to turn away, paused, and added, “I still need you.”

“How come?” I barely heard him say it.

“Because you’re family. I don’t abandon my family. Not here.”

Blackwall’s small, anguished weeping echoed off the walls of the dungeon as I left.

Cullen was waiting for me on the first floor. Varric and Cole had taken Cassandra to cool off; we had all been hurt by the sudden revelation, but she took it especially hard. The Seeker was not a woman who easily forgave, either.

He handed me a file. “I have Leliana’s report on Thom Rainier.”

Too tired to read through it right now, I said, “Give me the overview, please.”

He scratched the dark scruff on his jaw. “Looks like our friend was once a respected captain in the Imperial Orlesian army. Before the civil war, he was turned, persuaded to assassinate one of Celene’s biggest supporters. He led a group of fiercely loyal men on his mission, and told them nothing of it. His men took the fall for him. A few lucky ones, like Mornay, managed to escape.”

“Let me guess,” I sighed, “Our spymaster had this lying around somewhere, didn’t she?”

“It would have been difficult for anyone to connect Blackwall to Rainier. Even Leliana has something of a blind spot when it comes to the Wardens.” It was Cullen’s turn to sigh. “What do we do now? Black…Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don’t have to. We have resources. If he’s released to us, you may pass judgement on him yourself.”

“Begin making arrangements to have him released to us,” I said as I examined my polished, knee-high boots. I wanted to get out of here. The dungeon smelled like the Gallows, like Redcliffe Castle.

Cullen grasped my arm and drew in to confide. “Alaran, he is…a murderer. He’s killed innocents. Are you sure you want to take this on? Some may see it as abusing the Inquisition’s power.”

 His throat bobbed when he saw the look on my face but didn’t step away. “We’ve all killed innocents, Cullen. We’ve all done things we deeply regret. But does that make us bad people? The villains? Blackwall joined the Inquisition to make up for his wrongs; how many of us have done the same thing? And yes. I will admit that this situation is…extremely complicated. And I will handle it as such.”

“I know you intend to. But will you let your closeness to him blind you to justice? Alaran, you’re not…the merciful type when it comes to judging the convicted.” I remained stoic. “And those trying to tear you down will certainly see your partialness to Rainier when you grant him what you have denied so many others.”

“What I have denied so many others?” I repeated slowly. Cullen was my adviser, and my friend, and because of my respect and trust in him I refrained from snapping. He was discussing real problems and consequences as a person who cared about me and the Inquisition. “I try to let my decisions be guided by fairness. When justice is demanded, I deal with justice. When mercy is demanded, I deal with mercy. Do not try to imply that I’ve never given it to anyone before. I’ve met people like Blackwall, I’ve _been_ like Blackwall. As have you, and as have nearly every person we work and enjoy life with in Skyhold. Should we all be lying in a grave by now, or should we use the opportunity we have to make things better? I’m not going to pretend like I haven’t seen all the good he’s done and the amends he’s trying to make. What kind of leader would I be if I ignored that?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, knowing full well the predicament we were in. “Being cruel or being weak. That is what they will see you as depending on your choice. They may lose faith.”

_“They_ will not lose sleep or feel a part of them die if I make a decision they don’t agree with. This will not affect them past the month’s end. But if I refuse to give Blackwall the second chance he needs, that he’s _desperately_ been trying to grasp? It. Will. Ruin. Me. So what if our enemies think that this makes me weak? We can and will stand against them, just like we always have.” I bent my head for a moment before looking back up at the commander. “And honestly, Cullen, would _you_ want to see him hang for past crimes?”

He gave his head the slightest of shakes. “No.”

It felt like something heavy had curled up in my chest. I wanted to be back in Skyhold. I missed Solas and Bubba. We’d be leaving again tomorrow, but tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

As we walked out of the city’s prison, Cullen said to me, “I do not envy your job.”

I could only sigh, push open the door, and walk back out into the city street.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter I've been looking forward to writing (and to be honest, these next few chapters are just going to be awesome for me to write--even if that means it'll take longer to post) so I hope you guys liked it. Al and Blackwall have a lot in common--she still and always will blame herself for being silent when she knew some of the events that would transpire. But it's still difficult trying to balance the position of friend and leader. That's why this personal quest is pretty important. 
> 
> And a quick question for you guys: would you like seeing a snippet of Hana and Cullen in one of these chapters? I've been thinking about doing one, but thought I'd ask you guys to see what you think.
> 
> Stay lovely!


	65. She'll Be Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All commences judgement and commences marching  
> And a little Hana POV thrown in

Solas put his hands on my shoulders and kissed the back of my head. “You’re taller,” he murmured, voice sending trails of chills down my neck.

“It’s the Anchor,” I replied. “I’m Fade-Touched, technically. I didn’t realize I was growing until I was already another two inches higher in the air. Maybe I’ll be as tall as you, soon.”

He chuckled softly and lifted a hand to trace my ear. The chills amplified. “That would be interesting.”

I fastened the last button on the collar of my uniform. “Babe, don’t get me hot and heavy. I’m about to go to judgement.”

“Apologies.” Solas retracted his hand back to my shoulder. “I simply missed you.”

“I missed you too, Solas.”

Things had been a little chaotic upon returning to Skyhold. And by a little, I mean a lot. Not only was there the whole Blackwall debacle to steer through, but we had to coordinate ships to Kirkwall, set taskforces for about a dozen problems, and set up the outline for another campaign that took us all the way to the Hissing Wastes. I hadn’t gotten much sleep within the past four days because of it. I also hadn’t seen much of Solas because of our own conflicting schedules. It was rough.

I tightened the sash on my uniform before turning to Solas and letting him embrace me. He buried his head in the crook of my neck and breathed in. “I don’t want to do this,” I muttered into his chest.

“I know you don’t.”

Still, I eventually let go and snapped my fingers for Bubba to follow me. Solas would come to the judgement, but it would be best if everyone didn’t see us walking together. Though most of Skyhold knew of our romance it came down to a matter of professionality. I couldn’t wait for the day when we’d be able to be seen together in everything with no questions asked. Solas was more than a lover; he was a partner, a teammate, a confidant, a best friend.

My everything.

It was scary to love somebody that much.

Scary, but undeniably, wholly worth it.

The main hall was packed nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. There was barely enough space to create a path from the front entrance to the throne I settled into. Bubba took up his spot left of the seat. Off to the side stood Blackwall, guarded by two pale and grim soldiers. They had personally asked to watch over the “prisoner.” I didn’t have to ask to know that they, much like a lot of other Inquisition soldiers, learned a lot more than just combat moves from their instructor.

Josephine tried her best to steady her voice as she announced. “For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall. His crimes…well, you are aware of his crimes.” There was a tense pause. “The decision of what to do with him is yours.”

I kept my fists unclenched as the soldiers escorted him forward. The shackles around his wrists were a “precaution,” which I directly translated to “posturing.” But all those who came before judgement had to have them. Blackwall couldn’t escape it.

Because of me, I bet Blackwall thought he couldn’t escape anything.

He wouldn’t look me in the eyes even as the soldiers released him to stand alone in front of me. The hall was silent as they pressed together to hear my first words.

I wished I could have given a strong opening statement, one that would imprint on history and be repeated throughout Thedas. So many of my other words did. But seeing the man who had been with me since the beginning of this shitshow, the man who had done so much and yet thought so little of himself, the man who…who didn’t care whether he lived or died just made my heart heavy with sadness.

“I didn’t think this would be easy,” I spoke, careful not to let a sigh seep into my voice, “but it’s harder than I thought.”

Blackwall gave his head a tiny shake. “Yet another thing to regret.” He lifted his head to me. “Using your ties to the underworld to free me? You’re a criminal, same as me.” The hall rippled with mutters and whispers. I didn’t let the instinctive swell of anger at his remark affect me. “The world will learn how you’ve used your influence. They’ll know the Inquisition is corrupt.”

He was trying to bait me into believing he didn’t deserve mercy. Using his biting words as a last defense. “Once the world is back to normal, no one will even remember this,” I simply said.

“I’ll remember.” Blackwall’s voice quavered for a moment. “I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?”

Though my eyes didn’t flicker to Alistair, who had returned to Skyhold from the Western Approach a day ago, I briefly considered giving him to the Grey Wardens. They were a damaged order, yes, but people like Blackwall could help rebuild and remind them of what they were meant to be. But that would mean the Joining, that would mean the possibility of dying, that would mean the taint. I already had to face the possibility of Blackwall serving a death sentence; I didn’t want him going into another. It was a selfish move. I knew I was basing my decision on my own wants. This may set a precedence. This _would_ set a precedence. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care.

“You have your freedom,” I stated. The hall rippled with murmured responses and comments, none of which I cared to listen to.

Blackwall stared at me in disbelief. “It cannot be as simple as that.”

“It isn’t. You’re free to atone as the man you are, not the traitor you thought you were or the Warden you pretended to be.”

There might have been a stunned smile under his beard, but I might have just imagined things. The crowd behind him grew continuously restless and louder. I still didn’t dare to survey them. “The man I am?” he breathed. “I barely know him. But he— _I_ have a lot to make up for.”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head to me. “If my future is mine, then I pledge it to the Inquisition. My sword is yours.” I began to smile, but Blackwall added in a voice only I and those close to him would hear, “If I’d said anything less, would an arrow from the rookery have snuffed me like a candle?”

The smile slipped. Blackwall was still trying to get to me and make me think less of him, and it physically pained me. _Why_ was he hanging onto the notion _?_ Didn’t he recognize that I was just trying to help him?

I couldn’t deflect the dagger of hurt that sunk into my chest. Only those who knew me well would have noticed the miniscule flinches at the corner of my eyes. Beside me, Bubba softly growled.

Quickly straightening my face, I stood and clasped hands behind my back to walk down the shallow steps and to the man who I let deal me a blow. Blackwall sensed me approach and drew his eyes back my way. He began taking a step back, but thought better of it and remained where he stood.

I stopped when I was nearly toe-to-toe with him. There used to be a good six-inch difference between our heights, but now I barely had to tilt my head to address him. “Do not give me your sword,” I solemnly spoke between the two of us. “Give me the promise that you won’t hurt me like you’ve tried to do today. Give me the promise that you won’t wallow in the depths of your misery. There is no time or place for your self-pity. Else you’ll find that there are those who aren’t as compassionate as I. Especially when you publicly denounce me in front of the entire organization I’ve given my life to building.” I half-turned to walk away, but paused and placed a hand on Blackwall’s trembling shoulder. “Things will get better if you want it to get better. I can promise you that.” I let my hand drop. “Take your post, Thom Rainier.”

After nodding to Josephine and Cullen for adjournment, I escaped back to my room with Bubba beside me. Everything was so eerily silent compared to the loud thrum of the hall. It was almost as if I had imagined everything. Perhaps this could all be forgotten.

But when Solas entered my chamber and saw me sitting straight-backed on the bed with Bubs’ head in my lap, I raced across the room and flung myself into his arms. He held me tight to him as I quietly sobbed and grew weak in the knees.

Who was I kidding. I couldn’t forget any of this.

-

Kieran laughed as Bubba sloppily licked his face. Kasi squirmed enough for me to put her down so she could play with them—or, at least make her ungodly screeches and squeals from her arcane toddler language. I had made the rather brash decision of babysitting her for a few hours while Varric got some work done. This whole Kirkwall ordeal was sending everyone into a tizzy, but especially the dwarf. He had a lot of people in his network that resided in Kirkwall. A lot of friends. And who knew what was going to happen if the Inquisition and Starkhaven clashed forces?

Morrigan and I watched from our seats in an otherwise vacant gazebo. “He asks about you a lot,” the witch commented as she watched hers and Varryn’s son with sharp yellow eyes.

“Oh? Well, I suppose that’s not surprising. Varryn and I have that same sense about us.”

“As does the not-Tranquil mage,” she added. “It makes him excited to know that there are others like his father here.” Her expression softened with longing. “I am glad he relates you to Varryn. At times I worry Kieran will forget his face.”

I folded my arms to protect myself from the cool breeze drifting through Skyhold. Fall was already creeping in. Time passed too quickly in my life; the summer dwindled away while I was in meetings and traveling across Thedas.

“He won’t,” I assured. “Kieran is many things, but he’s not a boy who would let love for his father fade away. If anything, I think he’d remember Varryn more than most children.”

“Have you heard anything? From Varryn?”

“No more than you. Maybe even less.”

I looked past Kieran, Kasi and Bubba to the single Warden standing near one of the pillars lining the abundant garden. Alistair had his eyes trained on Morrigan and Varryn’s son, expression grim. “Have you and Alistair spoken at all? It’s been, like, a month and a half since you’ve arrived.”

“No. Things are…not the same.”

I hummed. “Probably not as much as you’d like to think.”

“He did not know about Kieran. Varryn and he are the best of friends; to keep such a great secret from him undoubtedly hurts.”

Morrigan made a displeased noise when I suddenly shot my hand up and waved it to get Alistair’s attention. “This is most unwise,” she lowly stated. I ignored her and continued to beckon Alistair over until he visibly sighed and made his way over.

“I’m tired of being wise. Do you think that’s what I want to be known for?”

“A wise Inquisitor that leads one of the fastest growing organizations against the looming darkness? Perish the thought.”

I simply smirked and walked out of the gazebo to meet Alistair. Kieran sensed me approaching and paused in playing to join my side. He was somewhat like Cole; strange and not what he appears on the outside. “Hello again,” I greeted.

“Hello again,” Kieran echoed. He turned his too-old gaze to Alistair, who had grown more cautious as he neared. “You’re a Grey Warden,” Kieran said to Alistair before I could get an informal introduction in. “You’re a friend of my father’s.”

“I…am,” Alistair slowly replied. He shifted on his feet. “And you’re Kieran.”

The boy held out his small hand and smiled, slate gray eyes crinkling like his father’s. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Alistair glanced at me. I gave a slight nod of encouragement. Then, after clenching his fist for a moment, he grasped Kieran’s outstretched hand. “A pleasure, Kieran.”

Another span of silence. Kieran eventually let his hand drop. “It’s okay,” he smiled, “you don’t have to talk to me. She can answer your questions better.” Kieran’s slate gray eyes drifted my way. “People don’t ask her enough questions. It makes her sad, sometimes. She’s from a different world, but nobody ever wonders if she misses it.” He touched my arm with a child’s grace. “If you’d like, I’ll ask you questions about Earth. I like all the stories Father tells me; I’m sure you have plenty of wonderful ones.”

I tried not to look too stunned as Kieran went back to playing with Bubba and Kasi. “Ah,” Alistair sighed, “I almost forgot to consider what the offspring of Morrigan, an Otherworlder, and an archdemon would turn out like.”

“He’s not an archdemon,” I corrected softly. It was hard shaking off what Kieran said. “He just has a part of an Old God inside him. But he’s still just a boy.”

“A strange boy.”

“Well, duh. He has an Old God inside him.”

Alistair played with his earlobe as he thought. “I can’t believe Varryn never told me about Kieran.”

I gestured for us to walk back to the gazebo where Morrigan sternly waited. “He didn’t want to. But people will do just about anything to protect the ones they love.”

“Protect them? From me?” Alistair couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice.

“It sucks, I know. Leliana didn’t like the revelation, either. But…” I shrugged my shoulders, “what can you do about it?” A rapidly approaching scout caught my attention. “Ah. You’ll have to have the discussion without me, it looks like.” I reached up and clasped his thick shoulder. “Don’t worry; Morrigan has lost some of her bite after all these years.”

He gave me a slightly funny look, as if to say, _how would you know what Morrigan was like?_ But it was gone when Alistair chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

I gave a wave of farewell to Morrigan. She didn’t wave back. Then I walked over to where Kieran was playing with Kasi and Bubba and said goodbye to him. He emulated his father by giving me a warm embrace and personally saying farewell to both Kasi and Bubs before I picked up the dense little dwarven toddler and met with the scout.

“Sister Leliana has called for an emergency meeting,” said the messenger. She was grim-faced.

“Uh oh,” I said as I adjusted Kasi in my arms. “That’s not good. I don’t suppose you’ll contradict me, either.”

“No, Inquisitor.”

“Great,” I sighed. The scout reached inside the pocket of her uniform and pulled out a couple of wrapped goodies.

“My mum sent them from Denerim. She and my dad run a sweets shop there. Probably won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

I smiled and took them from the scout’s hand. “You know what? It definitely is better than nothing. Thank you. What’s your name again?”

“Talin, Inquisitor.”

The candies were soft enough for Kasi to suck on, so I unwrapped one for her and then myself. The candy was almost like taffy and it tasted like fresh peaches and cream. I almost orgasmed from the taste. “Oh, man,” I said through chewing, “this is heavenly. Tell your parents that I’m coming to their shop the next time I visit Denerim. And if they want to send some more candies directly to me I wouldn’t complain.”

The scout happily blushed and bobbed her head. “Will do. Thank you, Inquisitor.”

I wished I had more candy to eat as I entered the War Room and saw Leliana’s dark expression, Cullen’s frazzled hair, and Josephine’s worried demeanor. I set Kasi down in a corner to have Bubba watch over her and clasped my hands behind my back. “Tell me what’s up,” I said. I felt my lips harden into a straight line.

“Starkhaven’s forces have claimed Lowtown and the docks,” Leliana replied. “They’ve nearly overwhelmed the guard. I imagine word got to them that we were planning on sailing to defend Kirkwall and preemptively struck.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Then, after deep consideration, I said, “Well, eff.”

“We are prepared to march and set sail within the hour on your word,” Cullen told me. “If we leave now, we’ll be on our way to Kirkwall before word will be able to reach Starkhaven.”

“Good. That’s what we’ll do. I want to be at the docks in four days. Is that doable?”

“It’ll be a hard march,” replied Cullen, “but we should be able to make it by nightfall.”

A single nod and the adjustment of glasses. _This was really happening,_ I wanted to say aloud, but now wasn’t the time for disbelief or doubt. I was going to defend my home city from a man who I considered family. Nothing disconcerting about that, right?

Holy shit. I was going back to Kirkwall. Aveline, Hawke, Merrill, Isabela, Carver, Sebastian, Varric, Cullen and I were all going to be there at once again. How many years had it been?

I pulled myself away from the rabbit hole and looked to the advisers. “Well. Let’s stop standing around like a bunch of jackasses and get to work.”

From the corner, Kasi loudly and adorably repeated, “Bunch of jackasses!”

Face still serious, I directed my advisers by saying, “Don’t tell Varric she said that.”

-

_Hands cracked and bleeding from carving, teeth ready to break through the peeling skin of her lips, grin savage and unnatural, if she was going to die here then she was going to let the Fade know that it could suck deez nuts—_

Hana drew herself from the memory and focused on the muddy path ahead. She was mucking through the ground, opting to walk instead of burdening the caravans already filled to the brim with mages and other non-soldiers who volunteered to come and provide aid to Kirkwall. That was one thing she liked about Inquisitor Lavellan, she supposed; Alaran used the Inquisition as more than a military force. It was also a well-structured humanitarian and peace-keeping organization. That being said, one _could_ be more than an army when the army was big enough that nobody could tell her otherwise.

The rainy drizzle that accompanied coastal autumns reminded Hana of home. Each individual drop that she knew would hit her before it landed carried some sort of memory. Was Alaran ever jolted with small reminders that this world _was not the world she had known?_ And yet…and yet the landscape of the Storm Coast was painfully familiar to Hana, as was the feeling of her staff in her hand and the buzzing stasis of the Tranquil brand on her forehead. Alaran was probably no different.

It was only through trained practice that Hana kept her hand from brushing across her forehead—across the sunburst brand. Everybody thought she had walked—or, rather, _jumped—_ away from her failed tranquilization with simply a scar to show for it. But scars didn’t tingle years after it was received. Scars didn’t feel like they were millimeters away from ripping the soul out of the body. Each morning Hana awoke expecting to have everything from her just…gone.

Then she stretched, rubbed her eyes, and went on with life.

Hana warmed her feet with a simple spell she learned how to cast during the cold nights in the apprentice quarters of the Circle while occasionally pushing excess water from the soles with her…abilities. _No. Bad word._ Perhaps she should gather a few other mages and provide some comfort to those who were trudging through the mud. It would alleviate the boredom without expending too much mana. Maybe she’d find the Valo-Kas among the everyone while she was at it. Hana had spotted them lining up in the train but hadn’t had a chance to say hello. Not that she was known for greeting others. Besides, Hana and Shok had been fuck-buddies there for a while and a good friendship developed from it. The mercenary captain knew how Hana was; their personalities were similar enough to get one another.

Her plans were interrupted by a commander hastily trotting a steed through the cleared line between the marching army. Hana averted her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice her as he passed.

Well. Mostly hoping.

“Hana!” Cullen called, pulling his large horse to a stop a few feet away from her. His blond curls were slick against his scalp from the rain. “Thank the Maker I found you.”

Her expression remained stoic. Gran always said that at least Hana would never have to worry about getting wrinkles because she never displayed any emotion. It wasn’t as though Hana wanted to have Bitch Face all the time; it was just her face. “What do you need, commander?” she asked, stepping outside of the line so she wouldn’t disrupt the flow.

“There’s been a mudslide up ahead, and it looks as if the rest of the mountainside will slide down any minute. We need capable mages who can clear it without disrupting the rest.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of others who would be better at the task than I,” Hana said back.

Cullen wasn’t the stuttering boy trying to keep the peace in the Circle. He was a commander, now, and Hana’s instinctive deflection didn’t faze him like it used to.

“There isn’t,” he flatly stated before holding out a hand. Hana stared into his amber eyes a second too long before grasping him and let herself be hauled up in the saddle. Cullen moved forward to make space in the saddle as she settled behind him. Then he turned his horse around and broke into a gallop without warning. Hana was nearly unseated from the sudden movement and instinctively gripped Cullen’s thick cloak. Bastard.

And still, Hana kept holding on until they reached the head of the army. There was indeed a mudslide. It was comprised of sludge and pine trees and more sludge. The entire road was blocked because of it. Cullen was right, too. The rest of the sloping mountain on the left side looked like it would break free in the blink of an eye. Nobody could walk through the mudslide, let alone nearly half of Skyhold. Hana could sense the water breaking everything down without even having to concentrate.

Dorian, Vivienne, Solas, Shokrakar, Karaas, Finn, Morrigan, and a few other mages were trying to clear the path, but mud was mud, and work was always slow whenever it was involved. Inquisitor Lavellan stood with her Mabari and Sister Leliana, looking as if she was trying to find a way to smash through the mudslide. Hana bet that if Alaran really put her mind to it, she could somehow get through. That woman was dangerously intelligent. And powerful. The worst thing was that she knew it, too.

The water moved faster than the mountain could hold it back. Hana snapped her head to the left and lashed out to keep any liquid in place, bud _mud was mud,_ and it was just as hard to control as it was to walk through it. Before anyone else had time to react—because nobody knew the mountain was moving yet—Hana was on the ground and casting a massive barrier across the entirety of the danger zone

Then the ground rumbled and gave way an instant later, hitting the barrier Hana erected a moment earlier. She couldn’t hold such a large amount back while simultaneously using her other talents to suspend the mud. Hana had to let go of the interlaced water and focused solely on the barrier.

It nearly cost her the barrier. The mudslide moved another five feet, densifying and pressing even more heavily against the warding magic. Cullen was crying out, Alaran was cursing loudly, and Hana was wishing she had just let nature be nature.

She grinned, but it probably looked like a grimace to the rest of the world. At least now Hana could say she knew what it felt like to singlehandedly hold up an _entire mountainside._

“Oh, fuck me!” she exclaimed through gritted teeth.

“I would if I could,” said Alaran, who was near enough to hear Hana. Then she was shouting clear instructions, voice carrying over the panic from the front of the army that had nearly been consumed by mud. “Solas! Karaas! Help Hana! Everyone else! Get the road cleared _now!_ We need more mages, and we need more g.d. lyrium!” Out of the corner of her eye, Hana saw Alaran quickly turn on her heels, slip, and land with a _squelch_ in ankle-deep mud. Instead of getting angry, she only threw her head back and loudly laughed. There was a mountain about ready to come down on them all, and still she was laughing.

“Oh, _vhenan!”_ Solas sighed exasperatedly before hauling Alaran out of the mud. Everything from the back of her head to her calves was soaked with black muck. “Are you alright?”

“I just landed ass-first in mud, babe, not taken an arrow to the knee. I’ll be fine. Now help Hana, please. We all know she can hold up this entire mountain by herself, but let’s keep her under the radar, yeah?” A pat on the shoulder left a streak of mud on Hana’s jacket. “That’s what she likes.” Alaran tried shaking off the mud as Solas joined in to alleviate some of the strain. “Remind me to be like a fucking Roman and start working on roadways after killing Corypheus.” She pushed up her glasses, leaving a streak of mud across her nose. _“All roads lead to Skyhold._ What a great fucking idea. Ugh, I need to stop swearing so much—hey, Bull, where the shit is Dalish? I need her bow skills!”

Then Alaran, the elven version of a rubber band being stretched between a thumb and forefinger, was off again. “I love that woman,” Karaas sighed as he stood on Hana’s other side and cast a surprisingly supportive and broad barrier. The young Vashoth mage had barely been able to cast a ball of flame when Hana first traveled with the mercenary band. Now he was probably as powerful as his twin sister.

Solas chuckled and Karaas jumped. He probably didn’t notice Solas before speaking. “As do I.”

“Oh—I didn’t mean—i-it’s not like—I just think she’s a good Inquisitor—” Karaas sputtered.

“Worry not,” said Solas. He applied more pressure to the barrier, opting to use an intertwining technique that was foreign to Hana. She would have prodded at it more if she wasn’t under such duress. “I understand.”

“So, Hana, how’s it going?” Karaas asked as if he wasn’t helping keep a heaping mudslide at bay.

“Fine,” Hana only replied.

He knew her character well enough to not be put-off by the brusque response. “That’s good. You need to come get drinks with us when everything in Kirkwall is fixed.” By “us” Karaas meant the Valo-Kas. The Qunaris were basically one entity.

“Okay.”

“Kaariss still writes the occasional sonnet about you. It’s actually some of his better work.”

Hana showed the barest of smiles. “I’m glad to hear.”

She glanced at the road. Mud was being pushed to the sides and frozen solid into towers that resembled icy turds. Once they dealt with that, though, they’d have to worry about what she, Solas, and Karaas were holding back. _Then_ they’d have to worry about the mudslide being frozen enough that it would be impassible once more after a few days.

Alaran, of course, had probably already thought of these problems, even as she was pointing and at the frozen mudslide pillars and calling them “shitsicles.”

“Lyrium?” a familiar voice posed. Hana glanced over her shoulder and saw Cullen carrying a small crate with vials of blue liquid within. She had heard he wasn’t taking lyrium anymore, didn’t follow the templar ways. Withdrawals could be severe. Withdrawals could result in death.

Worry made her stomach tight. Hana didn’t _want_ to care about this man, this man who she hadn’t seen in over a decade. Sweet hell, the last words she ever said to him was “I love you” right before suicide-jumping from the Tower window.

Yet here they were.

“Oh, yes, thank you, that’d be lovely,” Karaas responded for the three of them. “Thing is, though, we literally have our hands busy. Could you pour it in our mouths for us?”

Karaas knew how to use his sweet personality to prank the unknowing. Hana narrowed her eyes at him. She was ignored.

“I…suppose I could—”

“He’s trying to be a crack up, ay,” Hana cut in. It took some focus adjustment, but she managed to loosen her left hand—the one not holding her staff—and took a potion from Cullen. He was blushing, dammit. Always a cute blusher.

She tossed the lyrium back and felt her mana stores replenish. Karaas and Solas each took one as well. Hana was about to turn away from the commander when he started, stopped, and started again to hastily say, “You saved a lot of people, Hana, and supplies. Thank you.”

And Hana, the idiot she was, could only nod once. Cullen managed to smile at her—always the one to smile first—and dipped his head before leaving.

_You’re a real drop kick, ain’t you._

Karaas leaned over and whispered playfully, _“He liiikkkeeesss you.”_

But he didn’t get a response out of Hana.

Not many people did.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes, this chapter has been a real turd getting up. Weddings take up a lot of time, and the new job I have takes up even more. But I finally, finally did it.
> 
> How did you guys like the Hana pov? She's a real special one. Gifted, some might say.
> 
> Anyways, hope all of you nerds are staying lovely


	66. Show of Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al's world gets jacked up for a while

This. This was why Sebastian struck when he did.

The storm had come from the north and crashed into the coastline an hour before we reached the ships. It was in full force, now, with winds that stole breath and rains that felt like needles. The sky was practically black even though it was barely past noon. The only illumination provided was the cracking lightning that struck too close for comfort. Thunder piled on top of it, shaking the earth and drowning out the world with its dooming sounds.

Even those unpleasant conditions would have been sailable. The biggest problems were the ninety-foot swells that made some of the largest ships in the fleet look like toy sailboats. The moment we’d try to set sail we’d capsize and drown. It was a death sentence.

I stood alone on the cliffside where we were camped, surveying the tempestuous sea. Rain pelted my face hard enough that it felt like it was trying to peel my skin off. Whenever lightning hit the roiling water, it lit up the world beneath the waves. Things that didn’t normally come this close to the surface were now swimming in the storm. They were old gods of the ocean, ancient beasts that only existed in the Waking World through fishermen’s tales and sailor’s diaries. It was unnerving and mesmerizing. It was why the deep sea was meant to be respected and feared.

“Alaran!” It was Cassandra shouting my name over the wailing wind. “You must get out of this rain! You’ll catch your death!”

She came up next to me, shielding her eyes from the freezing water with one hand while the other held a veilfire torch. “Come! We must decide—”

I looked up at her, put a finger to my lips, and pointed to the sea. Cassandra, while a bit confused, remained quiet and followed my gaze.

Not a moment later a magnificent, white bolt of lightning connected with waves as high as the cliff we were standing on. And for a split second we were fortunate enough to see two great behemoths swirling under the swells, with long necks and longer limbs— _limbs—_ and spiny backs that broke through the surface of the water. They were as easily as big as dragons but more fluid, lither, and what could they possibly look like up close—

The world darkened again. “I…” Cassandra sputtered.

“As far as we know,” I had to loudly say, “this world is mostly ocean, just like mine. And even though my world is centuries ahead of yours, our ocean is still largely undiscovered. So I wonder what all the secrets yours has to offer.”

The Seeker suddenly looked a few shades paler in the light of the veilfire. Realizing I may have gotten ahead of myself—and not being focused enough on the problem at hand—I clasped her shoulder and said, “Let’s try and get warm!”

She quickly nodded in agreement. We turned and rushed back to the main tent, which was mercifully heated by some runes in a basalt rock bowl sitting in the center of the travel-sized war table. Every soldier had the small comfort of having the same engraved runes in their own tents so nobody would freeze. Who could have thought that an army who was taken care of would do tremendously better than those who were not?

Leliana, Josephine, Cullen, Morrigan, Solas, and Bubba were in the tent. “What were you doing out there?” Josie inquired.

“Looking at the sea. Remembering why this place is called the Storm Coast. Seeing things that also remind me why this place is straight out of a nightmare.” I pushed my wet hair back, glad that nobody here knew I currently looked like the love child of Steve Buscemi and Tilda Swinton. “But let’s save the long talks; we’re not going to get past the first wave without losing a ship. And if we _do_ manage to get past the first swell, we would have to repeat the process for hours on end. By the time we reach Kirkwall there won’t be enough left to defend it.”

“I agree with Inquisitor Lavellan,” said Cullen. He was standing by the war table, warming his hands up with the runes. “We shouldn’t risk the lives of our soldiers more than we already are.”

“So we’re stuck here,” Leliana summed up. “Maker knows how long.”

I went and sat down in a chair by Bubba. “Pretty much.”

Sebastian used the one thing I couldn’t control to his favor—nature. He beat me. And by the time we did manage to reach Kirkwall, the whole city could be occupied by his forces. Meaning that we’d have to fight him from a weaker offensive position.

I didn’t like the feeling of being outplayed. Of being unable to do anything because of forces outside my control. _I didn’t get outplayed. I was the one who outplayed others._ But I couldn’t let thoughts like that consume me. I had to be smart by staying put until the worst of the storm passed and coolheaded enough to draw up a new plan.

“’Tis a shame,” Morrigan said. “But now you must create a different strategy. Perhaps if we—”

Somebody untied the tent flap and stepped through.

And of course it had to be Hana Amell.

“Hello,” I glibly greeted. “You’re looking especially wind-swept, Hana.”

“Because there’s wind,” she not-so-glibly responded. Bubba got to his feet and greeted Hana by licking her hand. Instead of pulling away, she patted him on the head and gave a rather affectionate scratch behind the ears while stoically speaking. “We are trapped here, yes?”

“That’s what it looks like,” I said.

“You have the same origin of our Inquisitor, yes,” Leliana spoke somewhat coldly, “but that does not mean you have the authority to come here unannounced.”

“Next time I’ll use a doorbell,” Hana said with exquisite sarcasm. I chuckled because I was the only one who got it.

“Obviously you’ve come here for a reason,” I said as I stood back up. “And what might that be?”

“I believe I can help get your ships to Kirkwall.”

My brow raised. “Oh? And how would you go about doing that?”

Hana’s onyx eyes bore into me. “By controlling the sea.”

-

The most accurate response was mine. That is, because, the only one who responded was me.

“Wait. What?”

But Hana was a woman of action, not words. She beckoned for us to follow her back out into the storm, not waiting to see who would actually join.

“Cullen, Solas, Bubs, come on,” I instructed before grabbing the veilfire torch Cassandra had previously used. Leliana and Josephine weren’t dressed for the weather, and I had already traumatized Cassandra enough for one day. She probably didn’t need to see whatever it was Hana had in store. Also, she could be a bit close-minded when faced with bizarre and unusual circumstances. And I had a feeling that we were heading straight into one of them.

Unsurprisingly, the storm hadn’t lessened during the two minutes I’d been in the tent. “Are we going down to the shore?” I shouted to Hana, who was making a beeline for the mud-slicked path leading downward.

“Where else?” she shouted back.

“This slope is too dangerous!” Cullen yelled. Hana only glanced over her shoulder at him, almost smirked, and continued onward. I could practically feel heat rolling off Cullen.

So much sexual tension.

We reached the path. Or, rather, the _small waterfall_ that the path had been converted into. Even I was getting a little worried. It wouldn’t feel good if one of us was unfortunate enough to experience the Thedas version of a Slip’N’Slide. And Slip’N’Slides are already scary enough; try imagining one that’s not even described as “fun and family-friendly.”

Then Hana stepped into the rushing muddy water, took a few fast-paced steps, and then started gliding. She gained momentum as the slope began curving downward, but maintained her balance by crouching and spreading her arms out. Hana fucking _zipped_ until she disappeared from view.

The four of us stood there in stunned silence before I broke it. _“Sonofabitch,”_ I spat through gritted teeth. I shoved the torch into Solas’ hand and passionately kissed him. When I pulled back, I said, “If I die, make sure they put my fingers into a rock-n-roll sign and play Bowie’s _Life on Mars,_ alright?!”

Solas nodded and cast barriers on himself, Cullen, and Bubberston. I couldn’t be helped. Then I lifted my dog up into my arms, put my already soaking-wet feet into the trenched path, and started sliding forward until I couldn’t stop. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” I whispered as I headed straight towards my death. I couldn’t even balance myself because I was holding a two-hundred-pound Mabari.

Not ten seconds in, I hit a particularly big bump and caught air. _This is it. This is how I die. I know I’ve said that to myself a million times, but this is really it._

The water seemed to grab hold of my ankles and drag me back to the ground. It kept me upright, even as the level became thigh-deep. I wanted to scream bloody murder but the speed at which I was traveling at combined with strong gale-force winds would have ripped it all away anyhow.

So I clung to Bubba, who was enjoying the ride he was on. His tongue was lolling out and would occasionally spray thick globs of drool into my face whenever the wind shifted unfavorably. It was great.

Hana was waiting for us when the path finally opened up to the shore. The sea crashed onto land only fifteen feet away when normally it’d be fifty. Though I doubted anybody else would recognize the place in the current situation, it was also the same shore where I first met Iron Bull and the Chargers.

The water let go of me gently so I wouldn’t lose my footing. I set Bubba down and, after successfully staving off a panicked fit, threw my arms out wide. “What the shit! We could have died!”

“But did you?” Hana asked back. “Compared to all the things you’ve done, I would have considered that light play. Surely riding a dragon had to be more frightening than freestyling it down a pathway.” She looked over my shoulder as Solas and Cullen came sliding down. I immediately took Solas’ hand before turning back to the Maori.

“What did you do? There was something holding me the entire…time…”

The gears started clicking.

Hana looked at me expectantly. “And?”

Another crack of lightning. Another burst of thunder. Darkness again. In the half-moment where the world was brightened, Hana looked like a completely different person. She was wild, untamed, and absolutely fearless. She was in her element.

And completely untouched by rain.

“How?” I simply questioned.

“It’s an ability,” Hana responded. She looked to the sea as if it were directly challenging her.

“So you can _really control water?”_

“Yeah.”

A gust of wind tried to sweep us off our feet. “But Hana, that’s AN ENTIRE SEA!” I shouted even more loudly. “IS IT SAFE FOR YOU?”

Hana waited for the wind to die down a bit. “It is what needs to be done. You need to get to Kirkwall. The city is in danger. Lives are being threatened.”

“But what about you?” Cullen prompted before I could. He seemed to be accepting the revelation that Hana _had a superpower_ better than I was.

She only looked at him, unable to say the words she wanted to say. Cullen acted and walked up to grip her shoulders. “Hana, please, don’t do something that endangers you!”

Her expression shifted a fraction, but it was enough to display an instant change in mood. What Cullen said made her immediately close off. “I will do what I need to do,” she only said before stepping away from the commander.

“Have you even done this before?” I raggedly asked upon seeing that Hana’s mind wouldn’t be changed.

“Once.” She paused. “It was what killed me on my world.”

_“What?”_

But Hana was already walking away. Cullen started to follow but was held back by Solas and me. Lightning cracked again, this time close enough that I could feel my flesh prickle from the static in the air. And being this near the monstrous sea was so inherently _wrong_ I instinctively wanted to run away. And I would have, too, had I not been watching a single woman face off the very same sea.

Water crashed around Hana, not onto her. It basically _parted_ like it was welcoming a queen to its court. She did more than command it as she effortlessly strode into the sea without it consuming her. She knew it, shaped it, pushed and pulled it with each confident wave of her hands. Hana didn’t have to speak to make the sea move. Because the sea didn’t want words; it wanted action. And action was a pivotal part of who she was.

Hana acted. She was not acted upon. Not by the sea, not by the Circle, not by her patron, and not by death.

But really—and I’m being honest, here—there was basically only one thing I could comprehend at the moment.

Hana Amell could control water.

I uttered the appropriate words.

_“Holy.”_

_“Shit.”_

Lightning struck again, revealing a giant tidal wave coming straight for the shore. I clung to Solas, feeling his heart pounding through the rainfall. The wave was an opening maw, ready to consume anything that dared get in its path.

Then Hana raised a hand above her head and the wave disintegrated into drops of salty tears that fell back into the water. The rain suddenly ceased for the span of a breath before reducing into lazy drizzles. Even the storm lessened in its severity, turning the world from black to gray.

Hana lowered her hand. The Waking Sea still roiled, but the first few impassable waves were now sailable. She turned to us and, while still solemn, gave a shaka sign.

“Cullen,” I said, barely able to find any voice at all, “ready the troops. The Inquisition sails.”

-

“Is she still out there?” Solas asked as he looked out the main cabin’s window. The ship we were on pitched and rolled, but the strong wind was in our favor and the fleet was nearly halfway to Kirkwall. None of it would have been possible if it weren’t for Hana and her freaky as shit superpowers.

“Yeah,” I answered as I tried—and failed—to get work done.

“It’s been nearly six hours. She should rest.”

“Then you go out and tell her that,” I snorted.

Solas turned his head my way. I had to take a double glance at his…at _him._ There was so much going on that we hadn’t really been able to enjoy each other’s company. He was way too fine to not be noticed.

If you know what I mean.

“She will listen to you,” Solas continued. “Otherwise Hana may push herself too hard, give out, and not be able to gain back enough strength to start again.”

After a brief and somewhat reluctant moment of consideration, I nodded and stood. “Alright. I’ll try to talk her into taking a break.” Instead of grabbing my cloak and heading through the door, I walked towards Solas and pulled him down to kiss me. Even though he was unprepared for the sudden action, he rebounded quickly and wrapped me up in his arms to give a deeper kiss. His tongue teased my upper lip, one hand finding the small of my back while the other cupped my jaw.

I grabbed the bottom of his sweater and started pulling it up. Solas made a pleased noise in the back of his throat but broke the kiss. “Alaran. You should—”

My hand reached down and stroked his bulge, which twitched eagerly as soon as I touched it. “I think we’ll be fine for another five minutes,” I breathed.

Solas smirked. I knew that gleam in his eyes, that shift in his shoulders. “Five minutes?”

“I mean, unless you think you can finish quicker than that.”

Six minutes later I was out the door, feeling more relaxed despite the tense situation.

The doors lining the hall that I walked down were filled with the Inner Circle. I could hear Varric’s snores from the potion I had given him for seasickness. Dorian, too, had taken a draught before retiring to his cabin to sleep the entire journey. Josephine, Bubba, and Blackwall entertaining Kasi in another room—because of course Varric had to bring her. I advised against it, but all the people he trusted to watch over her were going to Kirkwall. He also wanted his daughter to see one of the “Greatest Shitholes on Thedas.”

The rest were probably sleeping or being the weirdos they were.

I took a breath and pushed open the oak doors that sealed the cabins off from the deck. Wind immediately tried to keep me in, but I slipped through before I could be crushed between doors. Sailors working for the Inquisition still carried on with their duties, completely oblivious that the person in the cloak was the Inquisitor.

Clinging to railing slick with seawater, I climbed up the staircase and saw Hana standing at the bow. Her normally thick and curly hair was drenched and hanging all the way down to the bottom of her spine like a black curtain. Though she wasn’t visibly directing the sea, I could tell that she was straining by the white on her knuckles as they clutched the edge of the ship.

I quickly walked up to the mage and touched the back of her shoulder. Hana didn’t jump. Instead, she sharply turned her gaze to me like a predatory bird disrupted from its hunt.

“What. Do you want,” Hana growled. I would have been offended by her tone, had I not remembered that she was keeping the sea’s unforgiving destruction at bay.

I pulled out a wrapped package and gave it to her. Hana slowly removed her hands from their vise of the ship and unfolded it. I made sure to look at her face when she saw the content to try and catch any emotion.

It didn’t work.

“Cookies,” Hana stated over blasts of wind. “You brought me cookies.”

Grinning, I yelled a little too loudly, _“Sea_ is for cookie!”

Any normal person should have uproariously laughed at best and groaned and rolled their eyes at worst. Hana just kept staring at me with a detached and unreadable expression.

Finally, she said, “I’m trying to keep this storm from drowning half the Inquisition, and you come all the way up here to tell me a pun?”

“What—no! Well, I mean, the cookies were an afterthought! I came up here to tell you to take it easy for a few. You’ve been at this for hours. Surely you must be getting exhausted.”

“The storm is moving with us, now, but it may change direction at any moment. Thedas and its damn sporadic coastal weather makes sure of that. If I let up—”

“Then we should be fine for at least a little while. If Satinalia was out I’d feel differently, but she won’t be visible for another month. Just take a break. Eat some cookies. We’d be in real trouble if you give out now instead of braving choppy water for an hour or so.”

“The water already is choppy,” Hana stated flatly. She was unmoved in her thinking. “As soon as I let go it will get worse.”

 _As your Inquisitor, then, I order you to take a break,_ I wanted to say back. But Hana wouldn’t. It wasn’t hard to see that she had a problem with authority, no matter how quiet or subtle she was.

So instead I simply said, “Please just take a damn break. Thirty minutes to recuperate. That’s all I ask.”

Hana couldn’t hide her sigh. It took a little while for a decision to be made, but I was relieved when she eventually nodded and took a tired bite of a cookie. I gestured for her to follow me back to the cabins. As soon as Hana let go of her grasp on the sea, the ship jolted forward for a frightening moment before returning to normal. I gave her a look that read, _See?_ And then laughed at myself for thinking of another pun.

We got below deck. Hana didn’t say two words to me before trying to slip into her cabin. I caught her before she disappeared, though, and asked, “How did you die? On Earth? And don’t try to stare me down until I eventually leave; I think I’m being reasonable asking.”

After eating the last of her cookie, Hana slowly said, “Some alien junk fell out of the sky near Piha Beach. It was big. Probably an entire space craft, come to think of it. I was doing some research for my marine ecology class on the beach when I saw it hit the ocean. Normally something that huge hitting the water is scary, but manageable, especially with how far off it was. Abnormal shit happens almost every day around the world; you lived in New York with that Spider-Dude and the shit superheroes, so you would know.”

My brows furrowed.

“But the junk went straight through the water and drove into the seabed. Probably even further than that. The impact made the ground roll like it was just another liquid. Hell, I _heard_ the crack it made in the ocean floor. I can’t imagine what it ever did to the cities when the earthquake reached far enough inland.”

Hana started on her second cookie. “The tsunami it caused was worse. I could sense how much water was coming our way—and in all other directions, too. Tsunamis, on average, travel about eight hundred kilometers per hour. This one was already about seventeen hundred and gaining speed. Ever see a beach completely vanish?” I shook my head. “It’s probably one of the most terrifying things to witness, because as soon as you look on the horizon you see a black wall coming right towards you. This one was about five hundred meters high. That’s like, what, a thousand feet?

“Everybody started running, but there was no way you could outrun this. It’s like trying to outrun a jet the size of a mountain.” Hana regarded me with cautious eyes as she continued. “What could I do, though? I was unregistered. I’d get in trouble if I exhibited my abilities.” The ship rocked and we steadied ourselves. I didn’t dare look away from Hana. “But if I did nothing then my whole country would be decimated. Other countries would be just as devastated. There wouldn’t be a home left to go back to, because my grandparents live in Raglan and they’d be hit, too. If I did nothing, I would drown millions.

“There were no superheroes to save the day. Just me.”

She gave her head a small shake. “So I started walking towards the wall. Word of advice: don’t try to stop a tsunami. Better yet, don’t try and stop a tsunami that looks like those waves from _Inception._ I can’t even begin to describe what it felt like. How would I even hold off something of this size? The most I had done was making better waves for surfing.” Hana finished off the second cookie while I clung onto her words with a foreboding sense of dread.

_Superheroes._

_Aliens._

_Unregistered._

_Abilities._

Oh, dear lord.

“Your body breaks down when too much force is pulling against it. That’s what mine almost immediately began to do. I was giving my all and still the first wave of the tsunami was already a stone’s throw away. But I had to keep breaking myself in order to make it stop. I had to tap into the thing which makes me different from humans, different from the rest of the world. I had to take the thing inside me which I was so afraid of and let myself _become_ it. After that, I had to convince the ocean that it wanted to adhere to me, to recede and lie still. I think the space craft was doing something to it, also, because I could feel a power not originating from the ocean. Meaning I had to fight against that, too.

“Then the tsunami just…stopped. It was literally within an arm’s reach and it just fucking stopped. Fucking insane. I managed to contain it long enough until it started going back where it belonged. There was about ten feet left of water before my body gave out entirely. The last thing I felt was the ocean washing over me. I don’t know what happened because of the earthquake or what the space craft was trying to do. I don’t even know if my family survived. I just know that I stopped a motherfucking legendary tsunami and died because of it. Not a bad way to go, ay?” Hana shrugged her broad shoulders. “Woke up in the Raw Fade, found a way out through a weak point in the Veil over Lake Calenhad, and the rest is history. That enough for you?”

I slowly nodded. My mouth felt dry. “Just one more thing,” I spoke quietly. “You said you were unregistered.”

Hana subtly stuck her chin out. “Yeah. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No. Are you a mutant?”

“Inhuman.”

“Right. Cool. Well. I’ll come back here in thirty minutes, then.”

Hana closed the door to her cabin.

I stood there for a little while, processing. Deciding.

Eventually, I found my way back to my own room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I slumped to the floor and put my head in my hands.

“Alaran?” Solas asked worriedly. He quickly came to my side and crouched beside me. “What is it?”

After a long and whiny moan, I replied, “I wasn’t born on the Earth Hana came from. I was born on a world without superheroes. _Without Deadpool.”_ I threw myself to the ground and scrunched up my face. “It! Sucks!”

If I responded through emotions of overdramatic jealousy and awe, I wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the crushing knowledge that there were parallel Earths. Parallel Thedases. Parallel dimensions.

Outside, the sea continued to crash and tumble.

We’d be to Kirkwall, soon.

-

Aveline refused to rub her tired eyes s as she surveyed a red-and-blue dotted map of Kirkwall. The blue pins greatly outnumbered the red, and each report tacked another one on. It didn’t take much which colors represented which.

Damn him. Maker take Sebastian Vael. He was smart to use the storm to his advantage. That way, Alaran wouldn’t be able to sail to the city and stop him from advancing. By the time they managed to reach Kirkwall it’d be too late. If they decided to fight and retake the city, the loss would be great on their part even with excellent commanding and strategy.

What would he do if he managed to overtake the Viscount’s Keep? Imprison them? Kill them? Those who he used to share his life with?

Hawke was discussing possible routes for the guard with Donnic while Merrill got some fitful sleep on one of the cots. She had been up the longest after overseeing the evacuation and placement of the alienage so Starkhaven soldiers couldn’t terrorize them. Alienages were always the first to go, no matter which side each force thought they were on. Now displaced elves were just outside in the main area of the keep, mercifully safe from the storm.

But soon it wouldn’t matter. Soon they’d have to face off against those who sought to take the city.

There was a rapid knock before the door burst open and one of the guardsmen stumbled through. It happened frequently enough that only Aveline responded to it. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she saw Merrill stir from the noise. It looked like none of them would catch a break. “Captain Hendyr!” he said with a quick attempt at a salute. “Ships have been spotted approaching Kirkwall!”

Her stomach clenched sickeningly. _Starkhaven reinforcements._

Aveline didn’t let it show on her face. “Rally the men and send every squadron back to the Keep,” she instructed. “If Sebastian wants a fight, he’ll get one.” She said that while concluding that she would die with her men before being imprisoned. Aveline would show _King Vael_ what it meant to go to war even though she was on the losing side.

“But captain!” the guardsman interrupted. “The sails bear the mark of the Inquisition!”

All heads snapped upright. _“What?”_

“The ships!” The guardsman was beaming, now. “Captain Hendyr, _they’re Inquisition ships!”_

Everybody was cramming through the doorway not a moment later. They all practically ran through the hall, weaving through the crowd as quickly as they possibly could without barreling through anyone.

It was still raining when they made it outside, but the storm had lessened drastically. Aveline blinked away droplets of water and looked to the bay. She couldn’t help but laugh with the others as she viewed twenty ships with the Inquisition’s sigil branded on their massive sails.

They hadn’t gone through the Starkhaven-controlled docks. No, they came through the lesser known port exclusively for Hightown’s merchants. Rowboats—tiny black dots on the murky waters—were still trickling into the port even as the sound of synchronized marching filled Aveline’s ears.

A piercing horn different from Starkhaven’s blasted across Hightown. Those who had taken refuge in the keep, the streets, and in their homes trickled out to see if it was really true. If the Herald of Andraste had indeed come for them.

Then cheers erupted.

Hawke whooped when Inquisition soldiers poured out from the streets right of the keep. They lined up in precise blocks in the courtyard, awaiting the signal to defend Kirkwall and its people. And Maker, they were a sight to behold. This wasn’t even _half_ the army, either.

Just what had she amassed?

After waiting for an eternity, Aveline spotted a white-haired elf stride through one of the streets. She walked with confidence, with grace, with assurance that she was one of the most powerful people in Thedas. It was almost frightening.

And then Alaran Lavellan turned and started heading up the stairs, smirking like she always did. Violet eyes found their way to Aveline, familiar and friendly.

The captain’s heart leapt with joy.

As Alaran neared, Aveline noted that her hair was almost like it had been all those years ago. But instead of wearing nondescript to downright ragged clothing, she donned a sleek black coat that swept past her calves with matching black boots, gloves, and trousers. The round spectacles that sparked the “better eyesight” frenzy in Thedas sat on the bridge of her nose. Silverite pauldrons were strapped on her shoulders, matching the shining breastplate with emblazoned with the Inquisition’s sigil. Its triangle-tiered shape vaguely resembled Hawke’s. Aveline had to smile even more at that. It was also sweetly-saddening to see a usual scarf around her neck to hide the old and distracting scar.

Strapped to her back was the infamous greatsword everybody in Kirkwall had spoken about. From the Viscount’s Keep to hovels in Darktown, the weapon’s name had been uttered on each and every lip.

Queenkiller.

The longer Aveline looked at Alaran, the more she realized the girl she had known had been beaten and refined into something stronger, something unbreakable. Her jawline and cheekbones had sharpened with age and a pale pink scar ran alongside her right cheek. There was something still inexplicable about Alaran, but now she expertly wielded it to her advantage.  And Maker, was she taller?

The Inquisitor’s smirk was nearly a grin as she stopped in front of Aveline. They firmly and fondly grasped arms. “I heard you were in need of some assistance,” Alaran said. Her voice, just like the rest of her, was as the same as it was different since they said goodbye to one another before she fled Kirkwall in the night.

“Never thought I’d be so happy to see you,” Aveline said, mouth aching from straining to contain her grin and throat aching from something more.

Alaran made one of her many faces. _That_ hadn’t changed. “And here I believed you’d be happy to see me no matter what.” She then reached up and gripped the back of Aveline’s neck to pull their foreheads together. Alaran still smelt of lavender. Still smelt of memories.

And the Inquisitor spoke with quiet proclamation, quiet promise. “Let’s save our city.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, forgot this was a damn crack fic? Well hope you remember now! But seriously, I couldn't pass it up. Basically Hana is from the Marvel universe. Al is jealous and super terrified of the ever-expanding comprehension that she's even more minuscule than she first believed in the Universe. 
> 
> And sorry that this chapter was so fast-paced and packed a lot. I just wanted to FINALLY get to Kirkwall. Next chapter Al and Sebastian are going to square off. Because not only was the war table mission underwhelming enough, but this time Alaran has to go toe-to-toe with somebody she considers family. It's gonna be dank.
> 
> I'll stop typing now. Hope you guys are staying lovely!!


	67. Family Feuds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al meets with Sebastian

It was odd, walking down a rain-spattered staircase I used to know so well. Everything felt foreign, but the same cracks were still there, the same amount of stairs I always counted when I descended and ascended were still there. The only thing missing were the crowds of people always hurrying on their way from someplace to somewhere else. Kirkwall had some of the same vibes as New York; I guessed that’s some of the reason why I loved it so much.

Rain was still lightly showering on my head, glasses, shoulders, and armor, but the sky was now a blanket of pale gray. The smell of dust and city filled my nostrils, calming the anxious heart inside my chest.

Eyes watched me from each rooftop I walked past. Behind me were Inquisition soldiers, and ahead and to the sides were Starkhaven archers. I could be pierced with an arrow at any moment, should somebody decide to be the champion of Starkhaven and kill the Inquisitor. Or, perhaps someone had a vendetta against me; it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. I’ve had to do a lot of harsh things in my position. Harsh and irreversible. And it always effected people. Always.

But I didn’t move warily. Although Sebastian was being a turd, he wouldn’t want me killed on sight. Not only could the Inquisition crush Starkhaven, but I still considered us friends. More than friends. Family.

Bubba also calmly padded along beside me. He was normally alerted of things before I was. Nobody wanted me to go alone—so I didn’t.

A truce was immediately called upon our arrival, bringing Kirkwall to an immediate standstill. King Vael soon received a letter requesting his presence to negotiate with Inquisitor Lavellan. The meeting place would be in the currently empty thoroughfare that bridged the gap between the two sections of the city.

A man dressed in dark Starkhaven armor and a heavy cape came up the stairs from Lowtown just as I was near the end of the ones on Hightown’s side. He donned a thick, circular band that marked him ruler of the rival city-state. A familiar bow and quiver was strapped to his back, just as a greatsword rested on mine.

Sebastian’s eyes still shone from a mile away. Before everything changed, I could always pick him out in a crowd from either his electric blue gaze or the blinding whiteness of his armor. Now that he was king, however, he had to forego things like the Andraste Cockblock Belt he always used to wear and the rest of the matching set.

Bubba whined loud enough so I could hear. “I know, buddy,” I whispered. “I know.”

The last time I had seen Sebastian in person was about two and a half years ago. I was a guest in his keep for about four months before leaving to tend to clinics in Orlais. We parted on good terms—great terms—and frequently kept in touch. I had the opportunity to watch Sebastian rule justly despite his reluctance to take up the crown. He hadn’t been so bitter, then. So bent on seeking something only he could see.

And here we were.

Sebastian and I stopped about ten feet apart from one another. He bowed slightly to me, then to Bubba. I returned the gesture.

“Inquisitor Lavellan.”

“King Vael.”

There was a span of silence. I etched in the memory of his unshaven face and how rain rolled from his brow.

“So you’ve come to oppose me?” he said, brogue thick with cold, contained anger.

“I’ve come to stop you from taking the wrong path.”

A muscle twitched in Sebastian’s jaw. He was still so hot-headed, after all these years.

“And you know the right path for me?”

“I know you’re not taking Kirkwall.” There was no other emotion in my voice besides absolute conviction.

Sebastian was already done with the conversation before it had even begun. “Stand aside, Lavellan,” he spoke. “Or be moved.”

“Now it’s ‘Lavellan?’” I posed instead. “Too ashamed to call me by my first name? Are you trying to detach yourself from me in any way possible?”

“Your clever tongue won’t help you win this. Not today.”

My tone grew harder. “I don’t intend on using my clever tongue, _Sebastian._ I intend on speaking the truth to you. What happens will depend entirely on your ability to listen.”

Sebastian took a half-step closer. Bubba shifted on his feet. “Listen to what, exactly? To you give me a monologue about how great this city is and my blatant display of abusing power? I already know what you’re going to say before you say it,” he spat.

“You want to _take_ Kirkwall, Sebastian. All because of one man _who isn’t even here._ I think you believe you know what I’m going to say because you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

“Anders _destroyed_ this city! Caused a war all throughout Thedas! I think some would agree with me that by annexing Kirkwall, we’d finally be setting things right.” Sebastian’s face darkened. “And once this city is mine, I’m coming for him, next.”

“Who agrees with you, again? Last I checked it was nobody. Do you think the people of Kirkwall see you as some sort of savior, marching into their city with an army and trying to take control of it? The only ones who see you in the right are tyrants and sycophants.” I, too, took a half-step forward. “You are using Anders—” he almost flinched at the name— “as an excuse to make a grab for power.” I shook my head with disgust. “I can’t even believe you right now. The man that I knew? The _king_ that I knew? If he were looking upon another nation doing what you’re doing, he would immediately rally against it.”

Sebastian barked a laugh. “And the woman I knew wouldn’t be killing empresses for personal revenge and gain control of an entire nation.”

I nearly recoiled from the attack. Sebastian knew what Celene did, knew how I bore the scars from the fire that burned down the alienage, _knew_ how its civil war was tearing the nation apart.

_I did it to one ruler. I can do it to another._

Instead I replied, “I can never forgive myself for what I did. Even as thousands rejoice, even as Orlais rebuilds, I will never forget the feeling of twisted evil inside of me when I watched Celene die. I could have done better. But I didn’t.

“So please. Don’t make the same mistake as me. Because you’ll regret it. And there will be nothing you can do to reverse it.”

Sebastian’s expression didn’t change. Dickhead. “And you expect me to _forget_ everything that has been done?”

“I don’t expect you to forget. I expect you to rise above it.”

“Alaran, he killed Elthina! He killed the Most Holy!” Sebastian exploded. “He nearly killed you and me!”

My own patience snapped like a frozen lake in spring.

“Ethina was a wicked, _wicked woman!_ She was the one who could have stopped it all! She was a grand cleric, for fuck’s sake! She had more power in the city than anyone to keep the templars in line and keep the mages safe. But she didn’t. She knew that if she moved a muscle in the mages’ favor, she would become vulnerable to losing power! Her greed and corruption was the reason why we all suffered. Why _you_ suffered. You never saw how she used you, did you? How she tried to manipulate you. How she wanted you under her thumb so she could use you as a pawn in her own game. If Elthina had you under the Chantry’s rule, she was going to use you to grasp power in Starkhaven—”

“You’re wrong—”

 _“I’m right!”_ I took another step forward, face twisted in a snarl. “I bet you told her about what happened to me at the Gallows. What Meredith Stannard did to me. How she took somebody that _wasn’t even a mage_ and tortured them without sanction. But what did Elthina do? What did she do, Sebastian?! Nothing! She probably told you that though it was a “shame” and “unfortunate” for this to happen to me, she had no power to make a change. But that was a damn fucking lie. She was the _only_ one that was in the position to act. She knew that, and yet she sat there and preached peace while she contributed to chaos.

“So excuse me if I don’t exactly feel bad for her death. I’ve had to clean up the mess she’s made. I’ve had to clean up every mess by every nation _and_ stop a magister who basically started the Blight itself. And it looks like I’ll have to clean up yours, too, when you get done being a small man and realize that all of this has been about you and only _you.”_

Each word was coated in venom, trying to weaken Sebastian so he wouldn’t make me do what I didn’t want to do. “But do you know what the worst thing is, Seb?” The corners of his blue, blue eyes wrinkled slightly at my use of his nickname. “The worst thing is that you’re going against your family! Hawke and Aveline and Carver and Donnic and Varric and Isabela and Merrill and Fenris and _Anders_ and _me!_ This was your home! _We_ were your home.” My throat grew tight but didn’t waver. “I looked to you like a brother. And the last thing I want to do is fight against you. But if you continue down this road, you’re not going to like where you end up.”

“Is that a threat, Inquisitor?”

“Yes.” I felt tumultuous emotions on my expression shift to a dark, singular one. “Don’t test me. Because I won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done.”

“And if I continue to do what I came here for?” Sebastian inquired. I wasn’t able to tell whether or not he still intended on going against me.

“Then you will know why the Inquisition is a force to be reckoned with. And we won’t be the ones fleeing the city with less than half our army. So go ahead, Seb. Try and take the city. Just try.”

But that damn knob just _wouldn’t_ back down.

“I am not somebody you can intimidate, Alaran. It’s time that you stop underestimating everyone else.” Despite Sebastian’s words, he was tapping two fingers against his thigh. An unconscious tick. “So either end me now with that Mark on your hand or turn back and ready your forces. Because I believe in my army as much as you believe in yours.”

The lead-in.

I thrust my left arm out. “You _think_ I want this death-sentence on my hand? It’s going to—”

It was a mistake when I began to wave my arm.

Somebody on Sebastian’s side was too jittery, too hyper-aware. Just a human who had made a mistake.

Bubba barked too late to alert me. An arrow loosed at close range and sunk into the small gap of my shoulder that was unprotected by my pauldron. I screamed and staggered the same time Sebastian cried out my name. I saw the shock in his eyes, the horror, the **wake-up.**

Before I fell, I kicked him in the stomach to send him toppling over just as an Inquisition arrow sailed past me and connected with his upper arm instead of a more fatal region.

We hit the ground at the same time. I repeatedly screamed, “Stand down!” even as I clutched the shaft of the arrow embedded in me. Sebastian commanded the same. Our hoarse voices echoed across an otherwise silent street.

When it appeared there would be no more conflict, I began to tear the arrow out of my shoulder. “Don’t do that,” Sebastian warned as he hissed through his own pain. “You’ll only cause more damage.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I said back, but released the grip on the shaft.

We laid there for a few seconds, staring up at the cloudy sky. Bubba kept pacing back and forth between us to make sure we weren’t going to die. Eventually, I started to chuckle. “We’re a couple of jackasses, aren’t we? A couple of jackasses with arrows sticking out of them, bleeding out on a grimy street.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian groaned, “jackasses.”

I angled my head so I was looking at him. “Is this what you really want, Seb? All this shit? Arrows flying and people dying and nobody winning? I don’t want my people to die. I don’t want your people to die. So just make the decision here and now, instead of weeks down the road when bodies litter the city.”

He was silent, eyes closed, blood slowly pooling underneath his arm. Although arrows were protruding from our bodies, it wasn’t the immediate problem. Just a byproduct.

“Inform…inform Captain Hendyr that Starkhaven will retreat.”

I faintly smiled at Sebastian’s statement, absently remembering that Aveline Vallen hadn’t been _Vallen_ for a long time, and yet I still addressed her that way.

“I will,” I said quietly. With a mighty groan, I sat up and cradled my arm so it wouldn’t aggravate the wound in my shoulder. Sebastian did the same, hissing as he moved.

“You’ll be alright walking back?” he asked.

“Yeah. I got Bubs. You?”

“Should be fine.”

“Come to the estate and have dinner. Then we can fight like a real family.”

Sebastian chuckled, but it was weary and worn. “I might hold off on that for a little while.”

“The longer you put it off, the more it’s going to hurt.”

“I know.”

I turned to leave. “Alaran?” Sebastian softly called. I paused and looked back at him.

“Hm?”

“The night…the night the Chantry was destroyed…” He swallowed. “I can still remember the Maker-forsaken sound. The smell. The consuming red.”

My face was solemn. “I remember, too. I’ll always have nightmares about it.”

“But,” he went on, “I can remember holding you as the world exploded around us. I don’t…it comes back in pieces. Things that don’t add up. Like there were two versions of the same memory.”

“Because there were,” I said with a look of old remorse. “We were in the Chantry when the bomb went off. We were supposed to be dead. But we were saved.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “By whom?”

“The woman who sent me here.” I weakly smiled. “Surprise. I’m from another world. I’m not sure if anybody has told you, yet. Come to dinner and I’ll explain everything.”

He softly said my name, but I had already begun walking back up the stairs to Hightown.

-

Solas, Leliana, and Aveline were with me in my old room at the Hawke Estate. Though the arrow had been safely removed, they still wanted me to rest up and keep my arm in a sling. I refused to be stuck in the bed, though, so we met halfway by having me sit in the comfiest armchair. Bubba was at my feet, dozing but not so asleep that he couldn’t hear the conversation. The rain had started up again, so a warm fire in the hearth staved off the cold.

“King Vael has kept his word,” Leliana informed. She was leaning against the window frame and staring at rain streaking down the glass. “The last of Starkhaven forces are retreating.”

“Just like that?” Aveline said.

“Just like that,” I repeated, and took a much-needed sip of the cup of tea in my good hand. “Has the clean-up crew already been deployed?”

“Yes, along with contingents of soldiers to keep the rabble to a minimum while healers and wagons with food can be dispensed to those who have been without,” said Leliana.

“Good.”

There was a polite knock on the door. Leliana walked across the room to open it. When she saw who it was, she softly murmured, “Ah, please come in,” and stepped aside to let the person through.

Scout Talin, the one from Denerim whose parents ran a sweets shop, entered. Her hair was damp from the rain and she still had her bow and quiver strapped to her back.

I smiled, set my cup of tea down, and stood to greet her. “It’s nice to see you, again,” I said, offering out my good arm. Talin somewhat guiltily clasped it.

“I don’t know much about that, Inquisitor,” she said, eyes flickering from me to the floor and back again. “I could have killed you.”

“Hey,” I said with a smirk and an assuring tone, “don’t feel bad. Lots of people have tried to do it and that didn’t work out for them. And you carried out orders spectacularly.”

Talin’s gaze went to Solas, who nodded kindly at the young scout. “You saved the city,” he said. “You should be proud.”

“I had no doubt in her marksmanship,” Leliana added. “This may deserve a promotion.”

I glanced at Aveline, who had the right to look confused with the current conversation. “Did it…hurt?” Talin asked hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah, it hurt like a bitch,” I chuckled. “But you hit it in just a right spot where it didn’t glance of the bone or exit out the back.” I turned to Solas and Leliana. “And Sebastian made the cue for the go-ahead almost too easy.”

“I’m sorry,” Aveline cut in, looking all sorts of stern, “but what is going on?”

The four of us looked at her. I was the one to explain. “After we set sail, I began getting the feeling that Sebastian wasn’t going to make things easy for us. He’s a stubborn Starkhavener who was out for blood. He wasn’t going to see the consequences of his actions unless it was right in front of his eyes at the very start. So when I concluded that he was going to continue on with his plans to invade and have it all end in bloodshed, I made a decision to force him to see—to feel—what it was like to have somebody fall right in front of him from an arrow belonging to a Starkhaven archer.”

“Talin infiltrated the ranks as soon as we docked,” Leliana continued. “We told her that if the Inquisitor quickly raised the hand with the Anchor on it, she was ordered to shoot Alaran in a precise, non-lethal spot. Exactly like an archer who was easily startled at movement during such a tense time.”

“Then one of our own archers would retaliate and shoot Sebastian,” I finished. “We’d call everything off before a battle broke out and he’d recognize his mistake. Starkhaven would retreat and we’d both be treated for rather minor wounds. It all worked out perfectly.”

Aveline’s brow furrowed. Eyes severe. “So you’re telling me that whole thing was set up? You purposefully shot yourself? Preemptively ordered your men to shoot the King of Starkhaven? What if something had happened and it didn’t work out perfectly?”

“Then we would have managed,” I calmly responded. “I know what you’re thinking, Aveline; I endangered my life, Sebastian’s life, our soldiers, and the city. But we’d all be in danger if I didn’t do what I did. You know Seb, though. He doesn’t like seeing things unless he’s forced to watch it two feet away. I made the gamble. And it paid off. But believe me when I say that I hope I never have to do that again.

“Also, I think it would be best if you kept this information to yourself and your husband. I know you’re going to tell Donnic anyways, but I trust the both of you to keep a secret. And the others, well…I’d prefer if they didn’t know what I’ve done. Emotions can tend to run high in this town.”

Aveline was looking at me differently. Like she didn’t know who the person was standing right in front of her. I faintly smiled. “I know,” was all I could say. “I know.”

With a small groan, I settled back into the chair. “Thank you, Talin. You’re excused.”

She put her arm to her chest, then hurriedly reached in her pocket and pulled out some wrapped sweets. “For you, ma’am,” Talin murmured as she put them on the desk. She blushed and nodded to the spymaster before leaving the room.

“Awesome,” I breathed, leaning forward and grabbing a couple of candies. I handed one to Solas and ate the other.

“Take some advice, Alaran,” Leliana said as she, too, headed for the door, “and rest for at least the remainder of the day. Trust your people to do their duties. And besides, I believe there are a few individuals downstairs that would love to see you.”

Aveline excused herself as well. “The guard will be up and running at full capacity at the end of the day. We’ll help as much as we can.” Though I didn’t doubt she was still perplexed, the captain hid it well and closed the door behind her and Leliana.

I struggled to accept the foreign notion of “relaxing.” Solas saw it on my face and reassuringly squeezed my good shoulder. “The world will not fall apart if you put your feet up,” he said with humor in his voice. “I think you’ve more than deserved it.”

A hum. “I don’t want to do what you guys are telling me, so that means you’re probably right.” I mightily sighed. “Alright, I’ll stay. At least until my arm is movable.”

“Which shouldn’t be very long,” Solas said with a note of chastisement. I sardonically looked up at him.

“I heard that,” I muttered before raising my good arm for him to take. Solas lifted me from the seat and wordlessly scooped me up in his arms. He carried me to the bed. I was set down gently and couldn’t help but smile at the wonderful person who was settling next to me.

Solas pulled me close to him so my head rested on his chest. I loved hearing his heartbeat, hearing how strong it was, how _real_ it was.

“I love you,” I whispered. He tenderly stroked the back of my head.

“And I love you.”

Through the difficulties of the Inquisition, the challenges the world threw at me—at _us—_ and the unaltered fact that we had no idea what tomorrow would bring, this was where I wanted to be. Always.

Next to Solas, listening to his heart endlessly thrum, and drifting to sleep in bed.

-

“Does it feel strange at all, being back here?” my lover asked after we had lazily awoken from our afternoon nap.

I put on a lighter, more casual jacket to stave off some of the rainy chill Kirkwall brought during the fall. One sleeve was empty of a limb because Solas didn’t allow me to take off my sling four hours after it had been put on. The nerve.

“I’m trying not to let it overwhelm me right now,” I lightly laughed. “All this time I never realized that I’ve built up the notion that I’d never come back here. And now I’m sitting on my old bed, in my old room, with the people who began shaping my life in this world right downstairs.”

“Are you nervous?”

I made a face. “Psh. _Nervous?_ That’s not in my vocabulary. Alaran is not nervous. Never has been, never will be.”

Solas gave me a level, _that’s complete bullshit_ look. I turtle-frowned. “Shut it.”

He took my hand and intertwined his fingers between mine. “Let’s go. Together.”

I grinned a little. Bubba, who was tired of being locked in the room while the two of us slept, impatiently scratched at the door. “We’re coming, we’re coming,” I grumbled at the hound. He only huffed and barreled his way through as soon as the door cracked open an inch.

The Hawke Estate even smelled the same. More floorboards creaked and some dust layered picture frames, but all in all Bodahn had taken good care of the place while everyone else was away. But it served as a reminder that just as my own life had moved forward, so did life here.

Practically everyone that I had said my goodbyes to only an hour after Meredith Stannard turned into a red lyrium statue was in the main parlor and more. Isabela—who had sailed here after the worst of the storm passed—was sitting in a chair and bouncing Kasi on her knee. Varric was chatting with Hawke and Merrill by the fireplace. Hawke had his beefy arm around Merrill’s shoulders. Aveline, Cassandra, and Cullen were going over important papers by the desk. Hana lowly spoke with Leliana in a corner. Sera, who had found Bubba and Beefcakes, was splitting off stashed, stale cookies and feeding them to the hounds. Dorian stood nearest to the mantle and slowly drank some dark wine while staring into the flames. Blackwall and Josephine sat near the kitchen doors, going over some book in Blackwall’s hands. Bull and Vivienne regarded a painting, and Bodahn ushered about with food and drinks while Sandal and Cole had some private, cryptic conversation by a plant.

It was a full house. Not everyone was going to be roomed here; most would be staying at an inn not too far away—and not the Blooming Rose, much to the Chargers’ dismay.

I tried descending the stairs as discreetly as possible, but the attempt was futile. Garrett’s golden eyes immediately went from me to Solas in an almost calculated fashion.

“Alaran!” Garrett boomed with a too-big grin on his face. “And Solas! It’s about damn time!” He took his arm off from around Merrill and began stepping past everyone so he could meet us at the bottom of the stairs.

“I haven’t slept in a long time,” I chuckled, “give me a break.”

“Ah, you’re forgiven,” said the Champion. He wrapped me in a tight hug despite the injury in my shoulder. I only laughed through the slight pain and waited for my feet to touch the ground again. When I was let go, I waved to Sandal, who happily waved back.

“Otherworlder!” he shouted.

“Alaran!” Cole abruptly cried, pointing a pale finger in my direction.

“And you!” I heard Hawke say from behind me. “I have been waiting a _long_ time to see you again, Solas.”

I barely had time to turn around and watch Garrett punch Solas square in the nose.

There was an overwhelming array of gasps, exclamations, and curses as Solas stumbled backwards onto the stairs. His eyes glinted dangerously through the gush of red that poured down his face, but he made not move to retaliate.

I ripped free of my sling and intervened to hold Garrett back. _“That’s_ for abandoning her!” he harshly yelled as he struggled against me.

My shoulder flared with stinging pain, but before I could let up Bull was there to pick Hawke up and carry him to a chair. It skidded across the stone floor when he landed in it. When he instantly made the move to get back up, I stood in front of him and hissed, “Sit the _fuck_ down.”

Garrett barely got a word in. “But he—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I cut off. Cold fury snapped through my voice. “You act like a child, you get treated like a child. Stay where you are.”

Though he was red-faced with anger and embarrassment, Hawke thankfully didn’t argue with me. I turned back to Solas. He was already being treated by Vivienne and Cassandra. I crouched down beside him and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Solas replied through the handkerchief Cass had given him. “Forgive me if I’m upset about what just occurred, however.”

“Forgiven,” I said. His gray-blue eyes went to my shoulder.

“You’re wound has reopened.”

“I know.”

“The nose has been healed,” Vivienne remarked, sounding as if the whole thing was a nuisance. And, well, it somewhat was. “He should not have any lasting blemish or bump, fortunately.”

“Thank you.”

I closed my eyes and fought to pinch the bridge of my own nose.

How rude of me to forget just how much _drama_ happened here. I was blatantly reminded that I was home.

Crap.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry updates have been far and few; wedding plans make everything a lot more complicated. But I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, because I know I did writing it.
> 
> Fun fact: whenever I write intense dialogue like the ones in this chapter and others, I always listen to Believer by Imagine Dragons. It just gets the passion flowing.
> 
> Hope you guys are as lovely as always.


	68. Reminiscence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al spends time in two very different places

“You are _literally_ going to make me die prematurely,” I said to Hawke, hands exasperatedly clasped together and aimed at his nose. “What in the fiery turds of the Maker made you think that that was _okay?”_

The assaulter sulked in the damp, colorless backyard the two of us had claimed. My arm hadn’t gone back in its sling, but was tightly wrapped at the shoulder. With all the damn drama, I had forgotten that I had been _literally_ shot.

Garrett wanted to stand up from the stone bench I threw him on when we entered the backyard, but I kept him down with a sharply arched brow and a penetrating stare. “Oh, come on, Al!” he groaned. “Can you blame me? The elf deserved it! Varric _told_ me what he did to you! How he left you to nearly die!”

“While he did leave me after a deeply traumatic event, I was the one who nearly got myself killed. Not Solas. You _punching_ him was uncalled for. Uncalled for, Garrett!”

“So you’re making excuses for him?”

“No!” I pushed my glasses up and dug my palms into my eyes so hard I saw spots. All the stress I had put off instead of dealing with was starting to overflow into this conversation. “Solas knows what he did, I know what he did! And we worked through it! Not punched each other!” I threw my arms out a little too wide and pulled the injury. With a wince, I slowly lowered them and put my glasses back down. “Honestly, Garrett, you need to slow your roll and deal with your emotions better. I know, _I know_ you’ve had a rough go, and if somebody hurt you like I was then I’d be fucking pissed, too. But—” I threw my head back and sighed— “You hurt Solas, then you only hurt me. He’s my guy. I love him—I love him more than I thought I could love anyone. So let our problems be our problems. And don’t try to _make_ problems of things that have already been solved.”

My voice had lowered back to normal level. I slumped beside Hawke, who was slouching more than I was. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“And I forgive you. Just…talk about things, man. It’s hard, yeah, but stuff like this? This raging and regretting? It can’t go on forever. I promise you that once you get into motion of discussing issues it gets easier.”

Garrett lifted his gaze to the dreary garden. His sad hazel eyes matched the colors of the world. “Why do you love me, Alaran? Why do you love any of us? We’re all…jagged. Broken. Surely you don’t need stuff like this in your life.”

I was quiet for a moment before a faint smile drawled across my lips. “Because I’m jagged and broken. But because we all are, we fit together to make some sort of… _mess_ that can’t be beaten. That’s what a family is supposed to be like, right? I don’t really have that good of an idea of what constitutes a functional family—and I definitely think we are not one—but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I stood again and ruffled Garrett’s thick black head of hair. He had chopped it off, again. “Come on, Walter Sobchak. Go apologize to Solas. He’s a lot more understanding than many believe him to be.”

-

Josephine, as usual, wasn’t fond of the idea of me going out to provide relief personally. “You may be injured,” she warned, trying to keep herself composed despite her frayed edges. “You may get ill, you may be swarmed and overwhelmed by the masses. Just as much work can be done here at the estate.”

I threw on Varric’s old duster and slung my medicine bag around me. An amused smile was on my face. “Oh, Josie,” I sighed. We were the only ones in my room; everyone else was either out in the city or waiting for us down in the foyer. “I love you. I really do. I understand how much you worry and thank you for caring about me.” I put my hands on her shoulders. We were now the same height. Was I going to keep getting taller? “But there’s one thing you need to remember: before I was the Inquisitor, this was the way I helped people. In the dirty clinics, in the messy crowds, all day and night. And it is _great.”_

I took a step back. “There’s no better way to forget about your problems than to lose yourself in the act of service. Because when you’re serving, you’re happy.” My sure smile turned into a smirk. “And here’s what you’re going to do, Josie. You’re going to come with me.”

“But Inquisitor—”

“No arguing! You help and better countless lives from behind a desk, Madame Montilyet; now it’s time to see the fruits of our works up close and personal.” I opened my door and winked. “I’d suggest getting dressed in more simple clothes; you’re going to get dirty. We’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”

She huffed, but I was already shutting the door behind me and bounding down every other step down the staircase like I used to. “We’ll have to wait a few more minutes,” I called as I landed solidly on my feet at the bottom of the stairs. “Josie is going to come with us.”

Cullen started to laugh. He stopped when he realized I wasn’t joking. “You’re not serious, are you?” He then chuckled a little. “Alaran, you know Josephine as well as I do. She’s spectacular, but…”

“Butts are for grabbing,” I concluded, then made a swift jab for Solas’ rear. He saw it coming, however, and swiftly used the back of his arm to deflect my hand while side-stepping. His eyes didn’t even lift up from the pages of the book he was reading.

“Smooth,” Hana flatly commented as she poured two dark concoctions together on a table to make a mysterious potion. Sandal watched with intrigue. She, Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, Varric and Kasi were all staying at the estate along with Solas and me. Leli was already gone and Varric had taken Kasi out on a stroll with Garrett and Merrill. It made for a pretty full house, but I think that’s just the way Hawke liked it. And besides, most of us would be out and about for a large amount of the day attending to business Kirkwall desperately needed.

First and foremost among the needs were the clinics. Ever since Anders left, there was nobody available to help those who couldn’t afford proper medicine and aid. There was the clinic Lirene and I first set up after the Fallout, but when Starkhaven started encroaching supplies to sustain the clinic was cut off almost completely.

I was angry with myself that I didn’t think to set up more clinics in more places when I became the Inquisitor. I mean, yeah, I composed _some_ clinics in _some_ places, but—

And I was doing it to myself again. Thinking that I always need to do more with time that I don’t have enough of. What I _really_ needed to do was focus on the task at hand and better the lives of those who were suffering.

“What are you making?” I asked Hana, sauntering up to the mage and putting an arm on Sandal’s shoulder. He speculatively muttered, “Enchantment.”

“You’ll see,” Hana only responded. Her onyx eyes were concentrated on the medium-sized vial filled with deep blue liquid. She held it aloft, gazed at it almost proudly, then proceeded to violently shake it. Her thumb was on the cork stopper so it wouldn’t spray everywhere.

“Hana, what did you study in college, again?” I inquired.

“I studied chemistry for two years before switching to marine biology,” Hana replied detachedly. “Turns out, knowing chemical properties comes in handy in this world. Wish I had a microscope and a centrifuge, though. And electricity and fast food.” She let the contents of the vial settle before tipping it upside down to observe the viscosity of the liquid. When it appeared satisfactory, Hana unstopped it and smelled the potion. A nod to herself. Hana then carefully wrapped it with cushiony cloth and put it in her bag.

“Those are pretty intense majors,” I said.

“To some, yes.”

I tilted my head. “I have some glass vials made in Serault. Don’t really need them as much as I used to in my traveling days; would you be interested in taking them? They’re practically indestructible. Sera even dropped one from the roof of the tavern and it didn’t crack.”

Hana finally looked to me. “Seriously?” she asked. I put my own medicine bag down and grabbed the three out of the six vials I had.

“Yeah. It’s not a lot, but you can use them to store your more precious potions.” I set the vials on the table she was working on. Hana picked one up and examined it.

“Thank you,” she said. “I can make good use of these.” There was something different in her voice. Something sincere.

Josephine caught all our attention at the top of the stairs. “Alright,” she declared, “I’m ready.”

Cassandra was the only one out of all of us who couldn’t contain a sputtering laugh. I, a brilliant actress, was able to keep my face neutral even as I looked at the ambassador.

I should have helped her in finding “common” clothes, which I now frankly knew that she had none. Josephine had done her hair like an Antivan merchant’s wife, with a braid twisting around one side of her temple and finishing as a bun on the other side. A solid gold hairpiece nestled beside it. She had a stark white blouse tightly tucked into a vibrant peach-colored skirt that held the typical Antivan poofiness. White shoes with gold buckles on them donned her feet. Those would be stolen right out from under her the first moment she stepped into Lowtown.

“What?” Josephine asked exasperatedly, that rare frustration creeping into her refined voice. “Is there something you wish to say, Cassandra?”

“You look like a giant peach,” Cassandra unashamedly replied. Josephine flushed with color. “People are going to rip that thing out of your hair and tear the fabric off your skirt.” She voiced my own thoughts. “And then they’ll take your shoes.”

“This is the simplest thing I have!”

I interceded and trotted back to the bottom of the stairs. “Okay, Cass, you’re exaggerating a little. Kirkwall is in bad shape, but Josie won’t be walking alone in Darktown at night.” I paused and said to Josie, “But yeah. They’ll leave you barefoot.”

“So what do you expect me to wear?” Josephine questioned tersely.

“I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes. We’re about the same height,” I offered.

“She’s not a jangling elf like yourself,” Hana spoke. I turned my head and turtle-frowned at her. “She can wear what I have. Might have to roll up sleeves and trousers, but it should work.”

I gestured a hand towards Hana and looked back to Josie. “There you go!” I smiled at her to reassure that she was still fantastic and hadn’t made as big as a blunder she most likely conjured up in her mind. “We can wait a little longer.”

About fifteen minutes later and Josephine wearing more appropriate attire meant for a long day’s work, the rest of us were out the door and headed to the clinic. As we walked, we passed the spot where the Chantry used to be.

I had to stop and take it all in for a few moments. “It looks…better,” Cullen observed quietly from the back of the group.

My lips remained unmoving. The main chunks of rubble had been cleared, but there were still towering remains of blackened and twisted stone, smoothed and melted in place by the explosion. Stonework hadn’t even been redone to lay a new foundation. A crater sat in the middle of the empty square—the unused grave for so many who died that night.

Solas put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “Let’s move on,” he quietly suggested. He knew I was starting to smell the fumes, hear the screams and feel the world shake all around me.

I nodded once and started to walk again. Bubba snuffed in the palm of my hand. I petted his head and found a bit more comfort.

“What was it like?” Cassandra had to ask as we moved away from the rubble.

“Terrible,” I replied flatly replied. “Sebastian and I were in it when the explosion happened. He doesn’t remember because Hallah saved us and wiped his mind after. But I do.” A pause to decide if I wanted to add anything more. “At least when the Conclave was destroyed I didn’t feel as helpless and scared. At least it had been Corypheus and not…and not Anders.”

There was a short span of silence. Just as I was about to apologize for making things so awkward, Hana said, “Hella tough luck, mate.”

Her ever-monotonous tone and kiwi accent made me faintly smile. “I know, right? It sucked nuts.”

Saying that oddly made me feel better.

-

Lirene gave me a hug despite the rest of the crowd parting for the Inquisitor. “Oh, Maker!” she joyously laughed, “I got word that you were going to the Conclave and thought you dead when it exploded! Then I hear your name with words like ‘Herald’ and ‘Inquisitor’ in front of it!” She pulled back and cupped my face with her hands. The Fereldan woman was older and had more gray in her hair, but she was still familiar and as lovable as the day I left. “Let me get a good look at you!”

I laughed myself and said, “Don’t look too long; I want to get to work.”

“Well, that part of you hasn’t changed!” Lirene let go of me and stepped back. “Now, are you sure—”

“Alaran!”

I looked past Lirene’s shoulder and beamed. “Elsie!”

The mage who had a knack for healing magic threw her arms around me in a tight embrace. Elsie stuck around with some of the other brave Circle mages after everything fell apart. She even stuck around after I left, after Kirkwall got worse, after Starkhaven invaded. Because though Lirene owned the building, Elsie was the main hand behind the clinic.

“Is this even allowed?” Elsie giggled into my shoulder.

“Well I’m the one allowing it, so yes,” I said back. We released and grinned at each other. Memories of us spending all hours of the day and night here in the clinic forming a bond with one another came flooding back. It was forged through sweat and sore hands and weary laughter and telling little lies to our patients like “everything will be fine” and “this will only hurt a bit.”

“I was told that you were coming to lend some helping hands here, but I didn’t dare believe it,” Elsie gushed.

“I figured you’d need it,” I smiled. “And besides, I’d much rather be here at the clinic over doing boring Inquisitor work.”

“Oh, I doubt it’s as boring as you claim. You love being busy.” Behind me, my compatriots all hummed and muttered in agreement. I didn’t bother to turn and give them _the look._ “But yes, we do need assistance. And I see you’ve brought others to provide, as well.”

“That I did.” I shifted so I was standing beside Elsie. We looked at the five people waiting for orders.

“Ah,” Elsie said somewhat stiffly. “Knight-Captain Cullen.”

“It’s commander, now,” I gently corrected. “He’s not a templar, anymore.”

She only responded with a flat noise before moving on. “And...you have a Tranquil with you.” It was apparent Elsie disapproved of us using somebody abused by the templars. I knew she had seen too many of her friends been branded with a sunburst and ripped of their personalities.

“Not a Tranquil,” said Hana, in a tone that many Tranquil speak with.

“O-oh—”

“This is Hana,” I said to Elsie, “from the Tower.”

The small piece of information was all Elsie needed. Her soft brown eyes widened and she partially covered her agape mouth with a hand. “You’re _her,”_ she whispered as chatter returned to the clinic. “You’re the one who resisted…I thought—we thought you were just a myth made up by others to ease minds.”

“Not a myth,” Hana so eloquently put.

“And not a woman of much talking,” I easily laughed to move the conversation along. “Elsie, you’re the boss lady around here. Just tell us what to do and we’ll do it. It’s what we came for.”

“Right. I have no doubt that you can keep up, but let’s see if your friends are as tenacious as the Inquisition healers they’ve replaced for the afternoon.”

-

It felt good, nay, spectacular to be in the midst of the clinic and helping those who needed it. Some recognized me as the Inquisitor, some recognized me as Alaran, and some didn’t recognize me at all. But in the end, all anybody cared about was getting themselves and their children proper care.

Hana revealed her mysterious potion she concocted at the estate before we got to work. It was basically disinfectant and was more potent when a healing aura circulated the air. I may or may not have kissed her strong, smooth cheek before proceeding to use the crap out of the disinfectant. She may or may not have threatened to poke one of my eyes out.

Josephine immediately set to work on organizing and taking stock of the clinic’s supplies. There was nobody better to coordinate everything than the Best Coordinator in Thedas. And I wasn’t going to force her to be in the midst of the sick and injured when she had virtually no experience in providing care. She was giving service in a way just as beneficial.

Cassandra and Cullen were commandeered by the ambassador to help in the backroom. Naturally I agreed with the decision, because C&C were the two most efficient people I knew. Solas, Hana and I worked both the main wing of the clinic and the added appendage to accommodate more patients.

Within the first hour I had delivered a baby, reset a fisherman’s broken leg, held a bucket under a child’s bottom as they suffered from dysentery, and amputated two fingers belonging to a Darktown smuggler. It was what I did almost every day at each clinic I worked at over the course of five years.

And it was as sad and happy as it always was.

“How does it feel, Inquisitor?” Cassandra asked while I was grabbing some stuff from the stock room. “Being back here?”

“Great,” I smiled. “It’s not as hectic as it used to be, but a calmer clinic is a good sign.”

“And…how do you feel about working with Solas?”

I looked at her sidelong, easily reaching for a roll of bandages that used to require standing on my tiptoes to grab. “Uh, it’s good. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because this is where you and Solas met!”

I blinked in confusion, then let out a laugh. “Who freaking told you—” I stopped and sucked in a breath upon remembering. “Oh yeah, _I_ told you!”

Before the Seeker could decide on what to think or feel, I explained, “Cass, girlie, Solas and I didn’t meet here in the clinic. I was just joshing you to divert attention. We met in the Fade! What did I even tell you in the first place?” My face scrunched up as I recollected what I said to Cassandra back when I hardly knew the woman. “Didn’t I say that we got in a fight with the Coterie and that’s why he was at the clinic? I told him to keep…to keep his _luscious locks—”_ Cullen sputtered a boyish laugh as he and Josephine listened in— “but he didn’t want to because he lost a fight. ‘So with a broken heart and an even more injured body, Solas stood and gave me a kiss—a kiss I knew would be the last I would ever receive from him,’” I recited with a hand clutched over my breast and eyes starry. “’Then I was left alone, dressed in my skimpy, silken nightgown stained with his blood and my own tears.’”

Cassandra opened and closed her mouth as her face turned red. I leaned against the shelf and loudly laughed. Cullen had been reduced to snorting laughter and Josephine muffled hers behind a hand. “You honestly _believed_ that?” Cullen said through his amusement.

“I didn’t believe _all_ of it!” Cassandra argued back. “I knew she was being a little shit! I simply thought that it was where they met!”

“That is damn freaking funny,” I grinned. “You know I have to tell everyone about it when—”

“Alaran!”

Solas’ shout cut me off mid-sentence and had me flying back into the front room. Solas was taking a limp child from their elven father and setting her down on a cot. She was soaked in her own blood and part of her chest was collapsed. I immediately became enveloped in the sort of cold mindset that tells me this small, precious girl is going to die.

“What happened?” I asked the father.

“She—she was playing a-and a horse broke loose from a cart and—” the father paused to sob— “and I couldn’t get to her fast enough!”

I nod once. Hana poured disinfectant over my hands while Solas settled the father down on the cot next to us. I check her pulse—it’s faint and fading. Her breath is ragged and wet from what was undoubtedly a collapsed lung. I cut away her soaked clothes and saw the irreparable damage of being trampled. The girl whimpered once, telling me that she can still feel the unbearable pain she’s experiencing.

“Hana,” I quietly spoke, “is there anything you can do?”

“I can ease her suffering,” Hana replied. I glanced at the Otherworlder and saw the same detached sadness in my own self.

“Solas?” I asked. He came over beside me and gently placed his hands on the child’s abdomen. A soft glow emanated underneath his palms for several seconds. I watched Solas’ face and saw it fall for an instant before smoothing back into neutrality.

“Her wounds are beyond my capability,” he stated.

“What does that mean?” the father frantically exclaimed. He stood up from the cot. “You ‘ave to help her? She’s my baby girl, she’s all I’ve got left—”

“Sir,” Elsie said, placing herself between him and us like a smooth stream, “you need to lower your voice. There are other patients here and—”

I saw the snap coming but didn’t move fast enough to do anything about it. The father’s face twisted in anguish and he pushed Elsie aside to get to me. “You’re the damn Inquisitor! You’re the Herald! You can do something, I know it!” he shouted, pointing a finger in my face. His ears were flattened against his skull and teeth bared. “Save my little girl!”

There was no chance to reply to his desperate, angered cries, for Elsie came up behind him and put a steady hand on the side of his face. “Peace,” she said. The father’s eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.

I rubbed my brow and turned back to the stockroom. Cassandra, Cullen and Josephine were standing near the entrance to watch what was going on. I motioned for the commander to come and take care of the father and focused on the little girl again.

She was so still, so fragile.

I pulled up a chair beside her cot and stroked blood-matted blonde hair. Hana weaved a pale blue spell and laid it on the child’s body. The clinic was quiet, paying their respects to such a young and innocent soul.

“You belong in the stars, _da’len,”_ I whispered with a small smile. “I’ve heard it’s very beautiful. And you will only make it much more so.”

I moved my hand down so it clasped hers. Hana and Solas were soon required to return to work, but I stayed beside the little one. Maybe she felt my presence, maybe not. It wouldn’t matter in the long run, but it mattered to me. She mattered to me.

“May I…join you?”

I tilted my head up and saw a timid and teary-eyed Josephine.

“Of course, Josie.”

She grabbed another chair and set it next to me. We were quiet for a short while. “I’m sorry you had to see this,” I eventually said to Josephine. “It wasn’t my intention to force you to witness a traumatic event.”

“You need not apologize, Alaran,” Josephine said. She tenderly placed a hand on the child’s broken knee. “Too often I forget that life is much harsher than I presume. Perhaps I continue to shelter myself, too afraid to step out of what has protected my whole life.”

“You don’t forget. And you’re not sheltered. Don’t think that it’s wrong for you to not have lived such traumas; consider yourself fortunate—and make it a priority to give others the same chance to be sheltered.” I moved my calloused thumb over the soft skin of the little girl’s hand. I didn’t even know her name. “But even then, Josie, you can’t stop everything. The world is still a messy place, and little girls and boys still die from things we can’t prevent. So let us mourn, let us remember, and let us try to make the world a little bit better in any way we can.”

Josephine nodded and flicked away a tear. I gave her one of my faint, reassuring smiles. So many of us had encased our hearts to protect it from the terrors and disappointments that people threw at us; it was good to know that there were still tender-hearted people to openly feel what we feared.

The little girl’s father stirred and came to a short while later. He groaned and rubbed his head, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot to sit up. “What happened…?” he murmured, then laid his eyes on his sweet, dying child. They immediately began to glisten. “Oh, _Maker…”_

“Shh,” I said, gaze soft and pleading. “Just…take her hand.”

Josephine and I averted our gazes and listened to the parting, heartbroken words of a father. She passed soon after. Her body was taken to another, unused wing where the dead were taken care of. All I could give the father, a man who lost his wife and then his daughter within the span of a couple years, was the promise to have his little girl’s funeral costs covered and that she could be buried wherever he chose. He wanted Elendra—that was her name—laid to rest beside her mother on the Wounded Coast.

Josephine would oversee the arrangements herself.

Our shift was finished soon after and Inquisition members assigned to the clinic came to relieve us. I bid farewell to Elsie and Lirene and the other patients I befriended during my time. Then I found Solas’ hand as we exited, squinting in the sudden autumn sunlight that our eyes weren’t accustomed to.

“Guys,” I suddenly declared amidst the rather somber silence, “let’s go to the Black Emporium.”

Cullen appropriately responded. “Oh, no.”

-

“Xenon, pal! You’re looking particularly decrepit,” I jovially said as I led the group into the secret shop. Josephine bit back a yelp upon seeing the live golem standing a few feet away from us. “Have you grown a new set of limbs?”

 _“Ah, Alaran Lavellan,”_ the immortal antiquarian wheezed, voice like pieces of chalk sarcastically grating down a board, _“Quite the somebody nowadays, aren’t you? Have you finally accepted my invitation to browse my wares?”_

“Yeah, so consider yourself lucky. I was still deeply hurt from that time you wouldn’t let me shop here even after I gave you crap worth thousands in gold,” I snipped, eyes roving the endless and twisting maze of shelves.

 _“I didn’t think of you special, then,”_ Xenon said, and I could have sworn I saw his eight pairs of shoulders bob up and down.

“Hey, at least I don’t look like…” I paused, tilted my head, and said, “you know, I actually have no idea what to compare you to. I don’t believe there is anything else in the world that has as many useless limbs and has to be moisturized every hour before they turn into a puff of dust.”

“Lady Cassandra O’Brien,” Hana offered. I sucked in a large breath and spun around to the mage. She appeared as uncaring and passive as ever. “Except she was just a piece of skin.”

“Hana!” I shouted. “You know _Doctor Who!”_

She almost rolled her eyes. “Who doesn’t?”

“So this is what unrestricted dark magic does to a soul,” Solas said, fascinated by Xenon’s twisted body. “I’ve never seen such an outcome, and most certainly not one that has such a lasting effect. How long has he been alive?”

 _“Not as long as you, elf,”_ Xenon cackled, which then turned into dry, unnatural coughs. _“Tell me, what is your secret?”_

“He eats his fruits and vegetables,” I interjected to quickly divert what Xenon had just said. “But onto more important matters. We’re going to drop some serious money, today, so I expect a full range of accessibility to any and all items here.”

 _“Some are above mere gold, Inquisitor,”_ he rasped, hinting at a proposition I knew I’d have to make if I wanted to get my grubby paws on the good stuff. _“Do you have something worth more than that?”_

“Alright, fine. No need to be coy about it, you sundried fart-tato.” I propped up my left hand and let the Anchor spark with life. The shop suddenly stirred, sensing ancient and long-forgotten magic that it, too, had been crafted from. “Whenever I lose this hand, you can take it. Put it in the jar, cut it up, use it as a sole functioning limb to pick at your nose hole—I don’t really care.  But it’s yours.”

“Alaran,” Solas muttered close to me. “Is this wise?”

I winked at him. “Babe, I got this. Worry not.”

“But—”

“Solas.” My tone was no longer humorous. A silent conversation ensued.

_Do you have any idea what you’re doing?_

_I’m making a deal._

_A deal with a lunatic. You’re planning on giving up a limb!_

_So what? Who knows when I’ll lose it? If anything, Xenon will only get it when I keel over myself._

_This is a dangerous path, Alaran._

_I’m already on a dangerous path. This means little to me._

Xenon interrupted the two-second stare-down between us. _“You drive a hard bargain, Inquisitor Lavellan! Consider it a deal!”_

“Hold on. I want one more thing out of this. If you’d be so kind, I would like to—”

_“You may not have Chauncy!”_

“Damnit!”

-

I already had a stack of old tomes under my arm when Hana appeared. She walked quietly for a human, so when she tapped on my shoulder my buttcheeks _definitely_ clenched. After nearly dropping my books and making a sort of _“Yeesh!”_ sound, I spun and faced the woman.

 _“What?”_ I wheezed.

“There’s something you need to see.”

“Is it more important than books about the Tevinter Imperium prior to magister rule and accounts of lizard-people?”

“Yes.”

“Then damn, lead the way.”

Solas didn’t follow us, as he was too entrenched in searching through texts on the other end of the row. The others had “divided and conquered” as I ordered them to. Meaning, Cullen and Cassandra went off to look at the armory and Josephine found baskets of exotic fabrics and stacks of old trading manifests to spend her time digging through. And I was assuming from the occasional happy bark and high-pitched roars I heard that Bubba made friends with Chauncy. I wanted to steal that little bear.

Hana led me through a twisting path of shelves in the seemingly endless shop. I caught glimpses of deformed heads floating in jars of yellowy liquid, objects that didn’t bear the quality of craftsmanship from the four races in Thedas, and a plush nug with some sort of wicked-looking rune branded into the side. I wanted to stop and look at some things, but Hana’s pace made me keep up with her.

Finally, we came to a dimly-lit row of leaning shelves. Hana cast a ball of flameless light that illuminated the space with a warm glow. “Look.”

My eyes went to the content of the shelves. Air left me.

I could hardly get words out. “I…what the…”

Though there were items from Thedas sprinkled throughout, most of the things I saw were from Earth.

_Were from Earth._

The texts under my arm were set down, forgotten in the moment. I picked up a dusty Rubik’s cube and stared at it in amazement.

“Hana,” I breathed. _“Hana.”_

She slid on a pair of blocky oval sunglasses with great rims in white, making her look like a celebrity from the sixties. “I know, mate.”

I grabbed what could only be a vinyl and looked at the cover. It was Led Zeppelin’s _IV._ “Oh, I’m wet!” I moaned. “This is freaking bliss!”

Hana and I then started on a rampage, pulling just about everything from Earth off the shelves and stacking them in a designated spot. Though I was more vocal about everything, Hana was just as excited. Her onyx eyes were bright and alive, and I even saw a full-blown smile at one point. But just because she didn’t smile didn’t mean she wasn’t fun. Like, Hana was freaking hilarious.

“A laser pointer!”

“Christmas socks.”

“Hairspray!”

“A poncho. Smells like horse poo. My signature scent.”

“A PEN! Holy shit, a pen!”

“A bottle of Victoria Secret’s lotion. That’ll pair nicely with the poncho.”

“A pair of handcuffs! Wait, there’s no key. Why can’t life be fair?”

“The complete soundtrack to _Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl._ Should give this to Isabela.”

“ _THE HOBBIT_ BOOK! There’s a waterfall between my legs right now.”

“A bra. It’s in my size, too.”

It went on like this for a long time. My increasing enthusiasm eventually drew the attention of the others. When they came upon us, they saw Hana with her sixties glasses, hair in pigtails held in place with two pink scrunchies, sparkly leg warmers, and in her poncho. I had on a _Don’t Mess with Texas_ baseball cap, a cheap and insanely comfortable H&M scarf, a Halloween sweater with a skeleton and the saying, “skin and bones, without the skin” underneath it, and neon running shorts pulled over my trousers.

“What in the void is going on?” Cassandra demanded. I grinned and spread my arms wide.

“Everybody! I’d like to welcome you to _Little Earth._ Like, Little China or Little Italy, but it’s our world instead.”

“That is amazingly accurate,” Hana said.

“What…is this?” she continued to question, picking up one of the many items in the growing pile.

I practically danced to her and took the instrument out of her hand. “This, Cass, _this_ is a synthesizer!”

“One of the great instrumental inventions of the twentieth century,” Hana added.

“It doesn’t have any batteries, but we’ll figure something out so I can raise the roof.” I pressed down on soundless keys, making _ooh_ faces as if it were producing sweet tunes.

“And you intend on buying all of this?” Josephine asked resignedly, already knowing the answer.

I pointed a finger-gun at her. “Yes.”

“This will cost an arm and a leg!”

“Oh, don’t worry Josie, I’ve already paid with my arm,” I joked. She didn’t find it very funny.

“And how are we going to carry all of it out? We’re in the Undercity, Alaran.”

“Worry not, my dear ambassador. Xenon has things shipped to you, should they be too great to carry,” I replied as I continued to play the powerless synthesizer. “Now stop stressing and come have fun with us!”

We had to have fun. We needed to have fun. Because Hana and I had to forget that somehow, items from Earth were winding up in Thedas. And either someone was bringing them in and making a profit, or there was a person in Thedas who could recognize and collect items. What if they gave the Qun a gun, a weapon that runs off gaatlok? What if _anyone_ got a weapon from Earth? Or, better yet, an alien weapon that wound up on Hana’s Earth?

But we’d worry about that when we were lying awake in the middle of the night. For now, though, I was going to squeeze Solas’ feet into some light-up Keds from the 1990s.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After eons...  
> I have finally posted...  
> A NEW CHAPTER.  
> I'm so freaking proud of myself right now.   
> Also, hope everyone is staying lovely and drinking water and doing things that make you happy.


	69. Lovers' Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three short scenes of one couple and two "couples."

The day was, for once, full of sunshine and without a hint of stormy weather. Solas and I took up the chance to get away from the fast-paced work within Kirkwall and take half the day to visit the Wounded Coast. We didn’t get the chance to be alone with one another often enough. It wasn’t a surprising factor because of our occupations, but it did force us to sneak away from campsites after dark or dink around in the Fade.

But just for a few hours, though, we’d be able to enjoy each other’s company without interruptions, without impending doom, and without the rest of the world invading our privacy.

Solas’ hand was warm as it held mine. He walked with his staff and I walked without my sword. There was a dagger on my hip; even though bandits scrammed when the Inquisition came, I learned a long time ago that it was always a good idea to carry a weapon around these parts.

The day was warm and humid enough that I didn’t require a jacket. I left my boots at home and was instead in comfortable and rarely-used footwraps. And, to top off the nostalgia, I donned my worn and somewhat sad-looking floppy hat I used to wear everywhere I went in Kirkwall. In place of the bucket I used to carry around filled with plants for Bodahn, there was a picnic basket.

“Can I confess something to you?” Solas asked as we strolled up an easy hill.

“Of course you can.”

“After you had returned to the Waking World, I would often find memories of you here on the coast. At the time I thought the clear imprint you made on the Fade was due to your Otherworldly origins, but now I believe that it’s because of your fondness for the place and the regularity of your visits. This place—the Wounded Coast—remembered you.”

I smiled at the thought. “I really did enjoy it up here. I didn’t feel as lonely as I did in the city. Being on the coast so much helped me adjust to Thedas. I believe it’s beautiful, even if nobody else thinks that.”

“It is,” Solas agreed, scanning the terrain. Rocks and sand and grass constantly competed for land, but instead of looking unnatural it appeared perfectly in balance. The shoreline was slim and often swallowed by tumultuous waves, but that’s what made everything so much better when the sea was calm.

We crested the top of the hill. Fondness filled me. “Was this your spot?” Solas inquired upon noticing my happy expression. It, in turn, made him smile. He squeezed my hand a bit tighter.

“Yeah,” I replied. “There are areas with a better view, but this one is my favorite.”

“Why is that?”

I turned to him, tilting my chin up so I could see him over the rim of my hat. “Because it’s a gentle place. There are no jutting rocks, no holes or caves for creepers or crawlies to pop out of. I can smell the sea and not be chilled by it. There’s no June grass to cut you—I’ve never known what you call it here, but it’s the kind of sharp grass, yeah? And I can watch the sunrise _and_ sunset from here with equally gorgeous views.” I cast my gaze out to the sea. “I was just a girl, then. A girl who thought she could pretend she wasn’t scared. I thought that one day I wouldn’t find joy in coming here.” A smile returned to dimple my cheeks. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

Birds cried overhead as Solas and I set out a blanket and relaxed on the hill. We ate a simple meal and drank honeyed juice and basked in the warm sun. Our talk was light and full of lover’s laughter. And man, every day was better than the last when I woke up next to him. Built on a little more love. A little more insight. A little more familiarity.

I couldn’t imagine life without Solas.

“What’s going to happen after all this is over?” I found myself asking. My head rested on Solas’ chest as we stretched out on the blanket. His arm was comfortably wrapped around my shoulders to pull me in and the other hand softly stroked the back of mine that lay on his stomach. “When Corypheus is dead and we’ll suddenly have loads of free time.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find something that needs the Inquisition,” Solas replied. “You have momentum, Alaran. You’re not going to stop changing the world because one ancient magister is dead.”

“True. But…I’m talking more about us. What’s going to happen to us?”

“Nothing, I hope. I enjoy your company. I’d prefer to enjoy it for quite a while yet.”

“You’re not going to go on some mad quest that leaves me behind, are you?” I set the question jokingly, but there was a level of seriousness to it. Some days I feared that Solas would set his sights on his original plan and try to tear down the very world I fought so hard to raise up. That he would leave me for a personal, and ultimately unattainable, goal.

I was afraid that we would be enemies.

“Only if you were secretly part of the quest,” Solas said, using the same tone as I did. “There is nothing that I want to do if you are not involved, Alaran. Somewhat out of fear—” I chuckled— “but mostly because we work together seamlessly. You challenge me, balance me, make me better. I have the utmost respect for you—and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

I was grinning by the time Solas finished his sentence. With that, I lifted my head, pressed a hand to his lovely jaw, and kissed him under the warm coastal sun.

-

Cassandra rummaged around in the ice chest and eventually pulled out some leftover berry tart Alaran had made because she “wanted to.” Honestly, Cassandra didn’t know where the woman found the time to do half the things she did, let alone _make a dessert_ while she was at it. Baking was yet another skill Alaran was excellent at. She might have thought the Inquisitor was blessed with every talent imaginable, but Cassandra saw how terrible she was at dancing. She would often remember how awful and lead-footed Alaran was whenever she thought that the Otherworlder was practically perfect.

It also was amusing to think about.

Cassandra sat down at the table with a slice of the tart on a small plate. It was well after midnight, but she had a dream about Anthony, again. It wasn’t a terrible one like some of the others, but it was enough to keep Cassandra from finding peaceful sleep.

Halfway through eating her tart, the Seeker heard little, strenuous noises emanating from the foyer. She knew the source of them almost instantly. A few moments later the kitchen door was pushed open by a grunting, struggling Kasi. Cassandra couldn’t help but smile at the small Tethras and her thick mess of dark brown hair. Sleepy yet determined eyes surveyed the room before they landed on Cassandra. She gasped but otherwise remained calm.

“What are you doing up?” Cassandra inquired, hearing the ever-present sternness in her voice. She softly reprimanded herself for using the tone. Kasi was barely more than a babe; she could get her feelings hurt, start crying, and then—

“What are _you_ doing up?” Kasi shot back as she waddled in, mimicking Cassandra’s inflection. Ah. Yes. She had nearly forgotten. This was a _Tethras._ They were more problematic than most.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she truthfully replied, watching as Kasi climbed into a seat next to her.

“Bad dream?” Kasi imposed, gaze wandering to Cassandra’s half-eaten tart. “Can I have that?” She pointed a pudgy finger to the dessert.

“Your father wouldn’t want you eating this late. It’ll upset your stomach.”

She hummed in disagreement. A trait she picked up from Alaran. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Daddy snores.” Kasi then exaggeratedly threw her head back and mimicked Varric’s grating, legendary snoring. Cassandra chuckled.

“He’s kept all of us up, believe me.”

Kasi wrapped chubby fingers around clumps of her hair and tugged on them. She stuck her lips out in boredom. “I’m hungry.”

“You had dinner.”

“So did you.”

Cassandra looked down at the food on her plate and frowned. _This is no normal child,_ she reminded herself. _This is the daughter of a Tethras._ If she said something like, “I’m an adult, so I can do things you can’t,” Kasi would come up with a reply too advanced for her age. The child had learned fast; her timid and non-verbal behavior quickly changed upon spending time with Varric and the rest of the Inquisition.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

“Fine,” Cassandra sighed, “one bite.”

“Two,” Kasi bargained.

“Alright, two. Then will you go back to bed?”

She didn’t respond. Instead, Kasi leaned over and stabbed at the tart with a fork. But it soon turned into a crumbly mess, so Cassandra took over and fed Kasi the bites she was promised. Varric didn’t like that Kasi still had people feeding her, but his daughter was going to try and get away with it for as long as possible.

Kasi smiled after swallowing the food and let Cassandra finish eating it. “Okay, you had your sweets. Now go back to bed.”

“Alny sings me a song to sleep.”

Kasi had failed at pronouncing Alaran’s name at first, but even now she still chose to call the Inquisitor by it. “I’m not Alny,” Cassandra sternly said. She would not have used the nickname if Alaran had been there.

“No, you’re Cassie. Like me. Kasi.”

“Only it’s not spelled the same. And our _A_ pronunciation is different. And my name is _Cassandra,_ not _Cassie._ ”

Kasi rolled her eyes and climbed into Cassandra’s lap. It was not an unfamiliar occurrence; she actually liked holding the child. Kasi was small and precious. And she knew it.

Maker, she was a tyrant. Cassandra wasn’t sure if she had gotten it from Alaran or Varric. Probably both.

Still, Cassandra rocked Kasi and told her quiet stories about a sister and brother who got into all sorts of trouble, who saw a world different than the one before them, who climbed mountains and pretended they were heroes of old. The stories filled her with a sweet sadness. Memories of a life long ago. When she fell asleep, Cassandra quietly moved to take her back to bed.

She didn’t get a chance to make it out of the kitchen, though, because the door opened and Varric stepped through. His hair was down and disheveled, wearing only night trousers. It wasn’t the first time Cassandra had seen Varric like this—they had spent nearly the first half of the Inquisition camping in close-quarters. But for some damn reason she blushed whenever she saw him.

“I got it from here, Seeker,” Varric said, voice riddled with sleep. “Little monster has been getting late-night cravings.”

Blushing aside, Cassandra tenderly handed Kasi to her father. “She got some tart. I could not resist her persuasion.”

Varric’s chuckle made Cassandra smile. She poorly tried to hide it. “Nobody can, believe me. Thanks for watching her, Cass.”

 _Cass._ He’d only use it when the two of them were alone. “You’re welcome,” she said, not meeting him in the eyes. Damn that dwarf.

“Best get some rest. Else you’ll be awake when Al gets up to do her weird shit. Then she’ll have to kill you.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Varric left with his daughter in his arms. He was well-known throughout parts of Thedas as Varric the Rogue, Varric the Storyteller, Varric the Merchant, Varric the Author. But hardly anyone knew him as Varric the Father. They didn’t see the way he devoted his life to Kasi in every way he knew. The way he patted Alaran’s back for a job well done—and the way she’d beam with pride from it. The way Varric had changed, little by little until he was the man he swore he would never become.

 _They_ were not storytellers like he was, noticing and remembering every little detail of every interaction.

But Cassandra was glad that, in this case, she did.

-

“You’re planning on going somewhere.”

Cullen paused and inwardly winced. He knew that _somebody_ would catch him trying to sneak out of the estate alone and off-duty.

But why did it have to be Hana?

She walked toward him, staff in hand and cloak around her shoulders. It looked as if Hana had plans to go somewhere, too. Had she sanctioned it with Alaran? Or did she even care about what the Inquisitor thought?

 _Why are you thinking if she got permission to do something so simple?_ Cullen rashly thought to himself.

“I…am,” he finally replied to Hana. There was a too long of a pause between the beginning and end of his short sentence. Made things awkward. _He_ felt awkward. Maker, please don’t let his stutter come back.

“Where are you going?”

Hana approached him and stopped. Her black eyes practically sucked the information out of Cullen. “I…I’m going to revisit some of the old places I knew.”

She hardly even paused. “You’re going to the Gallows.”

Cullen’s mouth went dry. To hear somebody else say it was different than all the times he repeated it in his mind. “Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s, well, it’s just something I need to do. Is that enough information for you?” Cullen ended the question more bitingly than he would have liked. Before he could apologize and explain, however, Hana shrugged her shoulders and looked to her left.

“Yeah, s’pose so. Want me to come with you?” She was still directing her gaze away from Cullen. It was something she did out of shyness, not remote behavior like others so frequently assumed. Hana used to do it when she first started asking him questions in the Tower library, such as if he wanted to play chess and if he read the book she recommended.

_But Hana didn’t do it when she asked you to join her in the stockroom._

Cullen shoved the thought down so frantically it nearly distracted him from the present question at hand. The back of his neck started to get hot.

“T-that’s not necessary. I’m sure you have other things more important to do,” he said much too quickly.

Hana looked at him again. Cullen didn’t let his eyes stray to the faded brand in the middle of her forehead. “Nah, not really. I was just going to take a visit down to the coast.”

_Ah. Right. Because she could control water. Nearly forgot about that. Minor detail, right?_

Well. It explained how Hana was able to survive the jump from the Tower window.

Still didn’t explain how she could resist the Rite of Tranquility. But Cullen attested that to her Otherworld origins.

“Truly, Hana, you don’t have to feel obligated to come.”

“I don’t feel obligated. I was simply asking. Would you like me to accompany you, or would you prefer to be alone?” How Hana could be so outwardly calm and collected was a mystery.

His face was completely red, now. Quite the embarrassment. “Yes, you can—if you’d like to, I mean—it’ll only be a short while.”

“Then let’s go.”

Hana and Cullen left the estate. The sunshine was patched over with gray clouds and a storm was on the horizon. But that hardly ever stopped a Kirkwaller; the city still had things to do, and with the Inquisition bringing stability more people were on the streets than they had been in weeks.

Kirkwall used to be Cullen’s home. He had built a life here…even if it was one shrouded in mistrust and lyrium.

But he wasn’t that man, anymore.

Did Hana know who he was, then? And who he isn’t, now?

Men and women eyed them as they walked to the docks. Many probably recognized the templar as one who put the fear into families who were afraid their loved ones would be ripped away from them. And to make things stranger, he had an assumed Tranquil walking next to him. A Tranquil with a fully functional stave.

“Don’t look now, but I think some people may be staring at us,” Hana said under her breath. Cullen lowly chuckled.

“We’re very captivating, after all,” he said back. Hana snorted. She rarely ever laughed, but she did snort enough for it to be considered one.

They made it down to the docks and rented a rowboat. There weren’t any templar-owned boats that’d take passengers to and from the Gallows. Not since everything fell apart. Cullen hadn’t expected there to be one, not at this point, but…still.

“Ay, come on,” Hana said, drawing him out of his momentary stasis. She was already in the rowboat with her staff across her knees. Cullen stepped down, prepared to steady himself from his weight shifting the boat. But, to his surprise, it remained solid and steady. He glanced at Hana. She only shifted her shoulders.

Cullen sat down on a bench and took the oar handles in his grip. They left the dock and away from intrusive eyes. The waters were, thankfully, untouched by Hana and remained choppy. It felt good to work his arms in constant motion.  He avoided making eye contact with Hana, who sat across from him. Instead he opted to look at the patchy sky and the nearing tower.

But she wasn’t going to let him get away with the silence. Not when it was just the two of them.

 “Why did you want to come back?”

Cullen finally looked to her. Hana had relaxed into a comfortable position, with her back against the bow of the rowboat and black hair sweeping with each gust of wind.

Maker, she was beautiful.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Cullen said, eyes going back to the looming Gallows. “I feel like I need to return. I know I’m going to regret coming, but I also know I’m not going to be pleased with myself if I don’t visit before we leave. This may be the last time I come to Kirkwall.”

“Did you like being here?”

“It…was a dark time for me. Uldred’s uprising at the Tower left me a damaged man. When I came to Kirkwall, I wasn’t in the proper mind to be upholding my sworn duty. Neither was Meredith, nor the viscount or Mother Elthina or Orsino,” he added with a sad chuckle. “Everybody was falling apart. Hawke tried to keep it together, but nobody could have foreseen what would happen.”

“Anders.”

Cullen glanced at Hana. The two had been close in Kinloch; she had even been condemned to solitary confinement for an entire month because she aided in his escape. He wanted to blame the mage for everything—and a part of him always would.

_But he was a different man._

“It was more than Anders,” Cullen muttered. The statement sounded odd coming out of his mouth. Years of hatred and fear told him that saying it was _wrong._ That the power of mages was to blame for every problem they faced.

_But he was a different man._

Hana didn’t say anything. She only gave the barest of nods and looked to the dark waters below.

She didn’t know what Cole had said about her. Despite the cryptic way he said it,  he did manage to grasp the concept that Hana could have feelings for him. After all these years. After all the hardships.

There wasn’t any glimmer of hope that they could pick up where they left off.

But maybe…maybe they could start something else.

 _Don’t,_ he chided himself. _Don’t expect a thing like that._

They roped the boat to the Gallows’ unused docks. Any other boats stationed there had been stolen by anyone who was brave enough. The Gallows already had a dark reputation. But now something hung in the air, like history itself had condemned it to be forgotten.

Cullen could recognize the feeling of suffocating confinement, the sense of hopelessness and punishment. It was meant to crush spirits, dreams, humanity.

It had done to the mages what it did to the slaves.

Hana was silent as they walked to the courtyard. She was the only thing anchoring him from reality and the past. Memories of the Tranquil abused by Alrik being displayed in the courtyard to incite fear into other mages flooded his mind. Of how he watched each and every mage with scrutiny, waiting for them to turn into abominations. Year after year, Cullen stood idly by as Meredith and her followers turned the Templar Order into a regime.

A regime he had been part of far too long.

“Holy shit,” Hana breathed when the narrow passage opened up into the courtyard. The battle between Meredith and the statues possessed by red lyrium had never been cleaned or removed. Twisted metal limbs scattered the space. Cullen could remember how hard they hit, and how he didn’t acknowledge that he was fighting inanimate objects come to life; he just _fought._

He had been told that red lyrium was alive, somehow, because it was Blighted. That’s why it could do what it did. But _how_ could it have turned statues into beings with the intention to kill?

Whatever it was, the red lyrium’s sickness still lingered in the air. Old blood stained the stone. Some of it was probably his, but most of it was from Hawke’s group. Cullen looked to the back wall and saw a large stain near it, echoing, _that was Alaran’s blood._

And, in the center of it all, were the solidified remains of Meredith Stannard.

Her mouth was agape in a preserved scream, hands clawed in a desperate attempt to repel the madness that had consumed her. Nobody would have known it was the former Knight-Commander if they hadn’t seen her in the previous life; her features were all but gone. Disfigured armor clung to no more than a skeleton.

“The eyes,” Hana said as she cautiously approached. Cullen stayed several feet back. With every step towards Meredith’s remnants, the invisible limbs of red lyrium reached deeper under his skin. It couldn’t affect Hana because of her Otherworld immunity. Did she and Alaran realize how fortunate they were? “They’re still glowing. It’s faint, but…” She slowly lifted a hand and reached out to touch the stone carapace.

A gut instinct propelled Cullen forward through the sickness. His stomach lurched and every muscle in his body wanted to lock up. He ignored it and snatched Hana’s wrist to stop her from touching something evil.

“Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. If he opened his mouth, he feared he would vomit.

Hana jerked away from his grasp. Black eyes reflected offense, then understanding. She grabbed his upper arm and pulled him away from the remains. “I wouldn’t have come to harm,” said Hana as Cullen raggedly sucked in air.

“You don’t know that,” he replied rather pitifully.

She didn’t say anything back. As Cullen returned to his normal self, Hana leaned on her staff and surveyed the courtyard. “Irving considered sending me here,” she confessed. “He thought I could bring some much-needed notoriety and enlightenment to the Kirkwall Circle. But I refused. I had already been forced into one Circle; I was not going to be thrust into another.”

Cullen’s heart felt a small stab of pain. He opened his mouth to say something, like how he was grateful she didn’t go, or that he was sorry—sorry again for all the things that happened. Or that if she had left, she would have escaped one terrible circumstance only to enter into another.

But Hana never let him, for she sharply turned her head his way and spoke with emotion he hadn’t ever heard her convey. “They did it to my kind back on Earth, too. The caging, the persecution, the restrictions. I was different, and different scares people. What is different can _destroy_ normalcy, can rend entire cities to the ground. It can even potentially bring about the end of the world.

“And so, to raise the façade of safety, they imposed the S.R.A. Superhuman Registration Act. It first started with only the Mutant Registration Act to protect the population from a small group of very different people. But then it expanded to all continents—and to everyone who was not considered entirely _human_. If you were registered, you were watched. You could pretend your life was just like everyone else’s, but in the back of your mind you knew that everything you did was monitored and reported on. That one slip-up could send you to a prison—or worse. That your rights were conditional, and at any moment could be stripped away entirely. So when I was exposed to the thing that brought forth my abilities, it was decided that I should keep it a secret. Stay unregistered, and stay hidden. In place of the fear of being watched, I feared getting caught.

“So you can imagine what it was like having to come to grips with being in yet another prison because I was deemed dangerous. Because I was _different.”_

Clouds blocked out the sunlight, plunging the two of them into a cold, colorless world. Hana took steadying breaths and tightly gripped her staff. The pallor made her Tranquil brand stand out. Cullen finally let himself look at it.

They tried to break her on Earth. They tried to break her on Thedas. But she was not a woman who was born to bow and bend.

And yet the burden of it all must have _ached._

Cullen took a step forward, then another, until he was close enough to Hana to smell the fresh ocean and the fragrance of an unknown flower. He resisted taking her hand or embracing her. Not even inadequate words reached his tongue.

There was this thing Hana used to do whenever they found sparse moments alone, in empty corridors and nooks of the chapel. She’d merely press her forehead against his. The motion would melt away Cullen’s tension and anxiety in one sweep of a second.

He initiated the same motion, forehead touching the Tranquil brand. There was a faint buzz to it, like a spell in suspension. Ready to take effect. Oh, dear Maker, she could become Tranquil at any moment, couldn’t she?

Hana breathed softly and leaned in without hesitation. Happiness— _familiar happiness—_ swelled inside Cullen, fiercely tempting him to draw her closer and exhibit the notion that though he could never fully understand her pain, he knew what her pain was like.

But Cullen stayed where he was. Hana stayed where she was. In the ruins of the past and underneath an unveiled sun. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be longer and have other stuff in it, but I didn't want to mess up the flow of everything. It was "Chapter 69" so of course I had to do something with the lovahs. Too bad I don't really write smut, huh?
> 
> I also just wanted to get a chapter posted. I feel so bad because I've really been slowing down, but I swear it's not because I'm getting tired of writing SRE. Life is just busy, and I'm sure all of you understand how that goes.
> 
> Comment and tell me how you liked it! How you're liking the story in its entirety! (Please, I need validation)


	70. Otherworlders Just Wanna Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al and Hana conspire

The three weeks we spent in Kirkwall had come and gone in the blink of an eye. I didn’t get to do half the things I wanted, but I wasn’t too bent up about it. I got to go back to Kirkwall; that was enough.

Even if the reason why I came back was to protect the city from Starkhaven.

“A letter for you, Alaran,” Bodahn said, waving a rolled piece of parchment in the air. I came down the stairs, gave the dwarf a quick hug, and took the letter from him.

“You know, Bodahn, you can always come back to Skyhold. My offer will always stand. There’s great people, great trade, and Sandal would _love_ creating all sorts of runes in the Undercroft.”

He chuckled. “As much as I would like to, I’m afraid the prospect of moving is just too much for my boy and me. We’ve lived here for so long that, at some point, it became home. Never thought I’d ever say those words while alive, but here we are. And with Messere Hawke back, things have suddenly not been very calm.”

I sighed, but it was understanding. “I suppose you _have_ been here longer than anyone else. Hawke included. I love him, but I know this place would turn into the next Hanged Man if you hadn’t been here. So thank you for keeping the estate afloat.”

“Happy to do it, serah. Happy to do it.”

Nobody ever gave Bodahn and Sandal Feddic enough credit, myself included. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to say something sincere and heartfelt.

I sat down at the desk and opened the seal. I hadn’t been observant enough to initially notice that while the seal was abnormally blank, its signature dark blue wax was a dead giveaway. Tension gripped my heart and for a split second I wanted to throw the letter into the fire burning in the mantle.

But I ain’t no bitch.

A finger slid under the wax seal and snapped it. I unrolled the parchment and recognized Sebastian’s handwriting. I had no idea what he had to say. Hopefully not to officially declare war. Haha.

_Alaran,_

_Know that this is the seventeenth draft of a very short and terribly written letter._

_I hope your shoulder has healed. I know my own wound was exponentially shallower than the injury to my pride. But it was an injury that I needed to feel._

_I’ve come to my senses. Or, I’m working on coming to my senses. I’m sorry for dragging you and your organization into this whole mess. And I’m sorry for endangering Kirkwall. The damage I have done will last generations. But I hope you can help._

_You continue to make people better. And you make them better simply because you care. I, along with an endless number of unimportant people, believe that in the end caring will destroy you. And I, along with others, also believe that you are indestructible and nothing could ever hurt you._

_Whatever it is, whatever may happen, you are an example. Before the Inquisition and after, you have made your hardships only another rung on the ladder to climb upward._

_I will come to Skyhold and face my errors, eventually. Do not be surprised if I come with my tail between my legs._

_Tell everyone that I am sorry. I don’t expect forgiveness._

_Sebastian Vael_

There was a certain stillness as I lowered the letter back on the desk.

“Oh, Sebastian,” I whispered. “Choir boy.”

I wasn’t indestructible. Nor could I be destroyed. That left me somewhere in between, always bruised but never beaten. It hurt. A lot. And often. Yet what could I do, other than pressing forward?

Because despite the pain and silent suffering, it was never greater than the unforgettable truth that the good outweighed the bad. I just had to be part of the good. I had to _stay_ part of the good.

It was frightening how thin that line was.

With that, I ran my fingers through my hair—it was getting shaggy—and stood. The letter was folded and slipped into the inner pocket of my fitted charcoal jacket. Then I walked to the estate’s medium-sized library and found Hana sitting in a chair with her earbuds in and listening to music.

I tapped her on the shoulder. She took an earbud out but didn’t look up at me. I noticed she was playing a high level of _Plants vs. Zombies._ Jealousy—an amusing sort of jealousy—sprang up inside my chest.

“Did you bring your Bluetooth speaker?” I asked.

“Uh huh.”

“I wanna throw a going away party since we’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow. I was wondering if you wanted to help make it awesome. Earth awesome.”

Hana was quiet for a few moments. When one of her doom-shrooms blew up an outhouse zombie, she finally paused it and started twirling her hanging earbud around a finger. “If we want it to be awesome, we’ll have to get that synthesizer to work.”

I suppressed a smile and tried mirroring Hana’s emotionally-vacant demeanor. “For sure. You think magic can get it going?”

“Probably. We’ll need some mage light to hang around the back garden so it won’t be too dark. I’ll make it multi-colored.”

“You want it outside?”

“Yeah. Parties are better outside. You probably wouldn’t know that because you lived in New York and there’s only one patch of grass to share between millions of people. But it’s better.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Just be sure that it’s warm.”

“’Course. That should be easy. Just have Sandal hook us up. You have to wear your Texas hat and that skeleton sweater. I’ll wear my horse-poo poncho.”

“Will there be dancing?”

“Are you seriously asking that question?”

I did a slow, silent fist-pump and whispered, “Freak yeah.”

-

I wished Hallah was available, if only to ask if she could bring us some chips and salsa. Or at least a veggie platter. And, if we’re taking real fancy, then catering from Subway.

But ever since Hana showed up she’d become absent. So the _other_ Otherworlder and I just had to make do.

We restricted access to the estate gardens for the rest of the afternoon. Though some were curious, nobody was going to try and get in our way. Especially when the day was chilly and they had a long list of things to finish up before departure. The only other living beings allowed were Kasi, Bubba and Beefcakes.

I got large heating runes from Sandal that we placed all over to get warmth flowing. Hana blew my mind once again by casting hundreds upon hundreds of small orbs of yellowy lights that attached themselves to the trees, benches and along pathways. She went even more above and beyond by arranging silver lights along the walls to make them look like scattered stars and bright constellations.

Hana said the lights would hold long into the night. I wasn’t sure if she had to concentrate to keep them, but I wasn’t about to ask if she could handle it or not. If the woman was able to control the seas, she’d probably be okay when it came to twinkle lights.

The Hawke Estate had a fine reserve of ale and all sorts of stomach-souring liquor. That’s one thing Garrett made sure was never in low supply. I’m pretty it just became habit from belonging to a group of friends who all needed to go to an AA meeting.

Bodahn, who had a hand clasped over his eyes to when he opened the door to the garden, wondered if he could make some mulled wine for whatever we were planning on throwing. He knew I didn’t drink, so there’d be some hot cider just for me and the little one. “And that…er, boy, as well. Not sure if he drinks anything or not, but it’ll be there if he wants some!” Bodahn added. Cole came off as strange to him, just as he would anyone else, but liked that Cole and Sandal bonded during the time they were there.

“Freak yeah, Sandal!” I enthusiastically called back. “You get them drinks!”

Hana snorted. She was hunched over the synthesizer and formulating an improvised spell to make it work. “You are so tiny,” she commented, “and yet you still have the most energy of anybody I’ve ever seen. You remind me of…a collie dog.”

I made a face. “Um, excuse me, I’m _obviously_ a German shepherd.”

It was Hana’s turn to make a face. It was far more subtle, but because she was expressionless most of the time it was easier to see when something shifted. “Whatever you believe,” she muttered.

I huffed, but there was laughter to it. “Can you please just figure out how to get that thing to work? Time is a-ticking.”

“Alny!” Kasi suddenly exclaimed. I looked over to the tree that I had spent so much of my time underneath and saw the little girl shrieking with laughter. She was atop of Bubba and hanging onto his collar. He was standing and looking all sorts of patiently tired. Beefcakes was dozing. “Look at me! Look at me!”

The astounding invention Kasi had made up was weeks old, yet the magic of sitting on the back of a Mabari hadn’t faded. I’d seen it a thousand times, drew pictures of it, and perfectly captured all the memories inside my brain’s data space. And still I wish I had a camera to take a photo of a beautiful little girl riding my dog.

“You’re amazing, baby cakes!” I laughed. “Bubs, you continue to be the exemplary babysitter! Love you both!”

Something happy was inside me. It made me feel music, want to listen to music, want to play music. Yes, yes, the spark was igniting once again. It had been suppressed for so long, barely kept alive through quiet songs shared only with Solas and simple strums on lute strings when pressed. But now…

But now.

I flipped my _Don’t Mess With Texas_ hat backwards and slid into a crouch next to Hana. “Whatchu got for me?” I prompted like a ‘90s punk.

“I think I’m almost there,” Hana said. “And you look like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever received a greater compliment.”

Something _sparked_ in the air. Every hair on my body stood on end and the Anchor flared up. I didn’t even wince and shake it. All that mattered was that the synthesizer might possibly _work._

Hana flattened her staticky hair. “Hey, you’ve ever seen _The Addams Family?”_

“Uh, duh.” I excitedly hopped up from my crouch, ignoring the few pops and creaks in my bones.

“Watch this.”

Taking the synthesizer’s unplugged cord, Hana then proceeded to pop it into her mouth. She propped the synthesizer in her lap and played a few random, sweet, _sweet, **sweet**_ notes. I shrieked with pure, delighted laughter. Hana couldn’t even hide her smile, which looked odd with the cord in her mouth.

As soon as I was finished with my jumping, air-kicking dance routing to some synthesizer keys, Hana took it out and dropped it next to her. “It’ll work without direct contact. I’ve just always wanted to do that.”

“And you were _right_ to do so,” I replied. The grin on my face was starting to hurt my cheeks. I sat down beside Hana, all jittery inside. Kasi had ridden Bubba to us, followed by Beefcakes. “May I?” I asked, gesturing to the synth. Hana set it in my lap and I reached a new level of happiness.

“What’s that?” Kasi questioned, pointing a pudgy finger to the instrument.

“It’s something from our world,” I explained. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I listen?”

“Of course!”

I pressed fingers down on the keyboard. A shiver ran through me as I realized that this was the first time that I had played any form of piano in the real world since leaving Earth.

A simple chord in C major. Then up to D major. Then moving to B major and then to F minor. I placed my other hand on and started to compose, to let the Music seep through little by little before it swelled up and broke the dam.

Something began to take shape. The world slipped away, and it was just the keys and my soul. I closed my eyes, but I could _see_ the music, every note and after-note that manifested behind my eyelids. I was guided, I was _not in control_ of the beauty that erupted—I was merely a channel. A conduit for wonder. For the reason why life was worth loving.

When I finally tore my fingers away from the keys and reality sunk in again, Kasi was staring at me with her mouth shaped in a perfect _O._

“Andraste’s tits!” she finally decreed.

“Yeah,” Hana said slowly, “Andraste’s tits.”

“I…that was…” I struggled to say.

“Don’t explain.” Hana stood. “I feel like even your clever mind couldn’t come up with something right now. But you know what this means?”

“What?”

“It’s time to party.”

-

Everyone’s reactions were absolutely, wholesomely perfect.

Solas showed genuine, unfiltered amazement. Hawke could only mouth _whoa_ and Merrill slapped her hands to her cheeks, twinkles of light filling her green eyes. Josephine laughed with childlike delight and Dorian said, “Oh, my!” in an unironic way. Iron Bull even _giggled._ Aveline left her suspicions about my origins in the house and came out with eyes wide open and clinging onto Donnic, who was just as blown away.

Poor Donnic. I wasn’t sure if Aveline told him about me or not. But hey, he was going to find out.

Varric scooped Kasi up in his arms when she ran to him and took in the garden with a kind of smile I hadn’t seen in a long time. Kasi pointed to the “garden stars” as she called them and told her father everything that made this possible.

Cassandra came up beside him and joined in on the conversation. Varric had to do a double-take; the Seeker wore a high-collared, slim-fitting Nevarran blouse with an embroidered keyhole in the center of her chest. It was white and had small floral designs in dark blue. A crisp, fitted jacket also in dark blue was put over the blouse. Its lapels were black and lined with white thread. I could tell she bought new trousers because, well, Cass only had like three pairs of pants that I all memorized, so I definitely knew this wasn’t an old pair. Holy cow, she even had new boots to go with it, too. And was her braid a _four strand_ instead of a three strand?

“You go girl,” I smirked to myself.

A hand rested on my shoulder. I turned to Solas and proudly smiled at him. “Well?” I inquired. He still had trouble tearing his eyes away from the garden’s beauty and keeping them on me.

“You did…Alaran, this is truly…”

“Oh. Wow. You’re at a loss for words. That’s one of the highest forms of compliments I could ever receive,” I joked. “But Hana did most of this work. She’s the one who’s keeping everything together. And she brought the music. I’m just here to party.” I took my hat off and tossed it onto one of Bull’s horns. He was so entranced by everything else that he didn’t take notice.

I did a small fist-pump. Nobody else was going to tell him he had it stuck on. “Her talent is incredible,” Solas commended. “Maintaining something this skillfully crafted with such ease…”

“Yeah. She’s pretty spectacular.” We both looked to Hana. Cullen was speaking to her, arms gesturing to different constellations excitedly. “Oh, yeah,” I muttered. “Rutherford is a big astronomy freak.”

“So?” Solas said, hand going for mine and beginning to walk to the synth, which was placed on a small high-table. Dorian was already inspecting it while sipping on a cup of mulled wine. “Did you get it to work?”

“Oh, freak yeah. Hana, again, was the magic behind everything. Literally.”

“I was going to touch one of these…” Dorian began, free hand fluttering over the keys, “but I thought, ‘Hm, maybe I shouldn’t.’ So you can thank me for preserving any sort of big reveal you had planned.”

“Thank you, Dorian. Your unwavering grace continues to make us strive to be better people,” I replied. Dorian waved me off.

“It’s why I joined the Inquisition, darling.”

I waved for everyone’s attention. “Alright, guys,” I spoke loudly enough so they could hear. A smirk drawled on my lips. “Lemme show you _real_ magic.”

Then I pressed my fingers down on the keyboard and started to play the intro to Toto’s _Africa_ with the synthesizer on its regular synth sound and a techno genre playing along with it. Because honestly, what better song is there to play on such a wondrous instrument.

My face got that weird, happy, scrunched up expression that always surfaced whenever I played. The _jam session_ face. Everybody has one.

Hawke was the only one in the entire crowd who was lucid enough to whoop. The rest were entranced by the hypnotizing tunes of the eighties.

The best part of the whole thing was changing the instrument to drums when it came up in the song. I _really_ got into it then. It was all I had in me not to sing. Singing would only distract from the sheer awesomeness of the moment.

Near the end of the song I stopped the techno and switched to regular piano. I slowed down the tempo until it finally, blissfully, trailed off. There was something alight in me. Something had awakened and wouldn’t be put back to rest.

I clapped my hands together and then pointed a finger at Hana. “Get some tunes going, Amell. Opening act is over. Time for the main event.”

Hana pointed a finger back and pulled out her phone. “Wait, there’s _more?”_ Sera asked incredulously, hopping down from Bull’s shoulder. “But where’s your…rec-thingy? Spins music.”

“Still at Skyhold, waiting for me to feed it those records I found at the Emporium. Didn’t I tell you that there are other ways to play music?”

“Prolly. But I wasn’t listening.”

“Well. There are.”

Hana tossed me her Bluetooth speaker. I caught it and propped the device atop the synthesizer. The little blue light signaling the connection was blinking.

“All of you are expected to dance, by the way,” I mentioned with a sneaky grin. “ _My_ kind of dance party.” The sudden burst of protests was drowned out when Hana cued the music.

I snapped into a poorly-coordinated shimmy the second Earth, Wind and Fire’s _September_ started up. The mage lights began pulsing with different colors, changing with the song.

Nobody came to dance despite the high levels of grooviness. “Solas!” I called, throwing an imaginary fish hook at him. “Dance with me!”

He only stood there awkwardly. We danced a lot in private—and usually ended up in a balter—but in public the two of us maintained a rather professional relationship in public. Meaning that the chances of him boogying with me in front of everyone were slim.

I moved the fishing pole over to Hana and dramatically cast it out to her.

She didn’t bite.

“Oh come on!” I groaned. “You were the one who said we needed to have a dance party! So why am I the only one out here dancing?”

I started reeling in anyways, hips jiving to the melodies of the seventies. Hana tossed back the rest of her drink, handed it to Cullen, and strode forward. She pretended to take a fish hook out of her mouth. _September_ was just about to hit the chorus. I rolled my arms in front of me and did an electric slide.

Hana stilled for a moment, flashed a smirk that nearly threw me more off-rhythm, and jumped into a smooth, more coordinated electric slide before shooting a disco finger out in the air when the chorus hit. I laughed and joined in with her, drawing my finger in and out while keeping those hips moving.

But Hana was so much better. She had perfectly timed moves that only a professional hip-hop dancer could master. Her body flowed like the water she controlled, yet she could make it stop and hit those beats with a seventies-era dance move.

I had to stop and stare at the other Otherworlder. A big, open-mouthed grin was plastered on my face. “Hana _fucking_ Amell!” I shouted before going back to dancing like a duck with its feet on backwards.

Garrett, of course, was the first one of the Thedosians to jump in. Merrill, unfortunately, was dragged along with him. I began teaching them the basics of disco that every child was taught from the moment they heard _YMCA._

It took a little longer for Merrill to get more comfortable, but with Garrett by her side it was a bit easier. By the time the second chorus came up they were unabashedly dancing.

Sera joined in, limbs flailing wildly. Then Isabela, who took to mostly rubbing her hands over her body and swinging her hips around. Dorian was hauled in by Iron Bull (we were all aware of their little “fling” they were having at the moment).

I pushed white hair that had fallen on my forehead out of the way and looked back to everyone else. They were all laughing, which was good. The only people who weren’t having a laugh were Donnic and Aveline. They were discussing what I assumed was the scene unfolding in front of them. Even so, they were smiling and casting numerous glances back at us.

Kasi bounced on her feet, holding onto Bubba’s collar with one hand and waving her other in the air while pushing out her lips. Bubba himself was panting and wagging his tail enthusiastically. They’d probably join in soon.

I looked at Cullen. He was bright red under the shifting lights, shining eyes stuck on Hana as she danced.

Then my gaze shifted over to Solas. He was giving me a Look, head tilted and eyes narrowed in a playful manner. One of those wolfish smirks was directed at me. Only me.

I beckoned him to join the fray. After a sigh I didn’t have to hear to know the sound of, Solas set his drink down and walked up to me. I cheered and Hana cheered and everyone cheered as the reserved apostate formally took my hand, kissed it, and then proceeded to lift me up in the air like damn Patrick Swayze. No running necessary.

The lighted world spun above me as I laughed and stuck my arms and legs out like a superhero. I probably almost kicked everyone who was dancing near us, but I wouldn’t have regretted it. Not while there was this much elation coursing through me.

Solas brought me back down to the ground. I was pealing with laughter as my head pressed against his chest. “You’re incorrigible,” he said to me over the music.

“Yeah, I am,” I said, smiling up at Solas. He smiled back at me.

My heart impossibly filled with even more joy. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

_The bell was ringing, aha_   
_Our souls were singing_   
_Do you remember_   
_Never a cloudy day_

I broke free from Solas so we could dance to the final chorus. Bubba and Kasi were welcomed in and, somehow, Cullen happened to wind up near Hana. What put the cherry on top was Cole suddenly appearing beside me and asking how I moved my feet to the song.

“You don’t,” I explained. “You let the song move you.”

“I…don’t understand.”

“You will, hon,” I spoke with a smile. “You will.”

There was barely a break between songs before the next started. When I heard it I whooped and pulled out the same ol’ white girl dance moves I inherited from my ancestors.

The synthesizer that started out _Mr. Blue Sky_ came in hot, and I thought to myself, _Tonight can only get better._

-

Solas and I slow-danced to _Forever Young._ The lights above us slowly shifted in blues, purples and silvers. My cheek rested against his cheek as we swayed back and forth. It wasn’t hard to teach everyone that Earth slow-dancing was just shifting back-and-forth on your feet and pressing yourself however close you wanted to your partner. Josephine and Blackwall joined in, and so did Varric and Cassandra and Aveline and Donnic. Cole held Kasi against his chest as he rocked her back and forth.

Dorian and Iron Bull danced. Hana and Cullen danced.

 _Let us die young or let us live forever_  
We don’t have the power, but we never say never  
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip  
The music’s for the sad man

I closed my eyes and felt the shape of Solas’ body. The Anchor buzzed as if it, too, felt happiness.

Who wouldn’t want to dance to an eighties pop song with their elven lover under the moonlight? It was a dream come true.

“Alaran,” Solas whispered in my ear.

“Mmm?”

He held me tighter. “You are the single most amazing woman that I have ever known.”

I faintly smiled. “And you are the single most amazing man that I have ever known, Solas. Everything we do, we do it together.”

“Always, Alaran. Always.”

For some reason my eyes stung.

_Forever young_   
_I want to be forever young_   
_Do you really want to live forever?_   
_Forever, and ever_

 Solas and I had a long history. We hurt each other, threatened each other, respected each other, and eventually loved each other. Who was I to possess his heart? I could shatter it at any moment. I’ve bruised and scratched it, and yet he still says it belongs to me. How could he put that much trust in me?

But I’ve given him my heart completely, unafraid of what he may do. Because I knew Solas more than anybody else in the world. He cherished me, my soul, my purpose and my love for him.

He was my love. _Ma vhenan._

Come what may, we went together.

_So many adventures given up today_   
_So many songs we forgot to play_   
_So many dreams swinging out of the blue_   
_Oh let it come true_

_Forever young_   
_I want to be forever young_   
_Do you really want to live forever_   
_Forever, and ever_

_This is so cheesy,_ I thought as I buried my face into Solas’ shoulder and let the world fade away.

I wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, believe me, Al and Hana showed everybody Sweet Caroline and they absolutely loved it. It even went on repeat.
> 
> Hope nobody has forgotten this fic exists since it's taken FOREVER to be updated. I started writing a new fic and am currently doing a play at my town's community theater, so my evenings which are usually dedicated to writing aren't as free as they used to be.
> 
> Storm Coast drama is coming soon. Maybe not this next chapter, but the one after. I'm just really excited to love it. Hope everyone is being lovely!


	71. His Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al leaves Kirkwall and Bull makes a decision

There was a wrapped synthesizer under one arm and a squirming Kasi under the other. “Al-ny,” she whined, “let—me—go!”

“I don’t think I will,” I answered, beginning the descent down the stairs. “You’re too cute to let go of.”

 _“Daaaaaad!”_ Kasi cried. “Alny is being mean!”

“Your dad isn’t around, little cutie,” I said. “He’s all the way by the docks, happy to get a break you’re your tyranny. Nobody is going to help you.”

“Fine!” She started squirming an extra lot. “Then—I’ll—just—stop—being cute!” Kasi scrunched up her face, pushed her lips out, and made a _hhhrrrrnnnnngggg_ noise. I threw my head back and laughed.

“Okay, fine! But you only made yourself cuter, you know.” I set Kasi down and took her hand as we walked down the rest of the stairs.

The majority of the Inquisition was leaving today. There were a few squadrons that’d be stationed for a few more weeks for a smoother transition. But now that the Starkhaven threat was gone, Aveline could basically run the city herself. She didn’t like it much, though. The templars already gained control of Kirkwall once before. Aveline didn’t want to replace them with the City Guard.

But it wasn’t going to happen. I saw that…look in Varric’s eyes after those long meetings and councils in the viscount’s chambers. When Corypheus was dealt with, I was almost certain he’d come back here and rebuild our city.

He’d take Kasi, too.

I squeezed the little girl’s hand a bit tighter. When we reached the bottom, she squirmed out of my grasp and ran to Bubba, who was sitting with a dozing Beefcakes next to the fire.

Sandal hugged me tightly. “Otherworlder,” he sighed melancholically. I patted his back.

“Tell your dad that you two need to visit Skyhold,” I whispered, winking to Bodahn who stood close enough to hear. “You can make even more kinds of enchantments.”

“Don’t be putting any ideas into his head,” Bodahn chuckled. I hugged him next. “We’ll miss you, Serah Lavellan.”

“I’ll miss you, too. Stay in touch.”

“Will do.”

Somebody threw their arms around me from behind. “Do you _have_ to go?” Isabela groaned, laying all her weight on me.

“Unfortunately, yes. The world will fall apart if I don’t,” I said, turning so I could give Isabela a hug.

“No, it’s not that. I just want _this_ to stay.” She tapped on the synth I was carrying and smirked. “I like the way it gets my body to move.”

“Of course you do,” I smiled. Isabela’s eyes twinkled and she placed a hand on the side of my cheek.

“Don’t get into too much trouble, you hear? Not without me.”

“I won’t. Love ya, girl.”

“Love you, too.”

Isabela kissed my forehead and ruffled my head. I was about to say something else, but was interrupted by Hawke slamming his hands on the second floor’s railing. He then belted, _“Sweet Caroline! Ba da da! Good times never seemed so good!”_

 _“So good, so good!”_ I echoed. An Inquisition worker who was helping pack everything passed by. I quickly asked them if they could see that my synthesizer was delivered to my ship’s quarters. It looked like I was going to need my hands free for the next little while.

Garrett cantered down the stairs and swept me up in a big hug. “Oh, _Al!_ I’m going to miss you!”

He squeezed me tighter so my response came out as a wheeze. “I’m gonna miss you too.” When Hawke eventually set me down, I asked, “Where’s Merrill?”

“Oh, she wasn’t feeling too well again, so she told me to tell you, ‘Oh, farewell, Alaran, I hope to see you again, soon.’” Hawke did a terrible—and yet spot-on—impersonation of Merrill and her Dalish accent.

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s pretty early in the morning, Hawke. And she wasn’t sick last night, but she was yesterday morning. And the morning before that.”

Garrett shrugged. “Yeah. Beats me.”

My eyebrow arched higher. “Garrett. It’s _early_ in the _morning_ for her to be _sick.”_

He made a face. _“Why_ are you _emphasizing_ so many _words?”_

Isabela scoffed and summed up the situation perfectly. “Men.”

“I’m going to say goodbye to her in person,” I said, making my way back up the stairs.

“I think I’ll join you,” Isabela said. Hawke’s confusion heightened.

“Alright. Do whatever you want…weirdos.”

_He got that word from me, and he thinks he can just use it against me? The gall._

I knocked on the door of Hawke and Merrill’s room. When there wasn’t an answer, Isabela and I slipped in and saw the little elf curled up on the bed with her arms wrapped around her stomach.

“Kitten?” Isabela prompted. “Everything alright?”

Merrill only groaned.

The door shut behind us. “Hey, Merrill,” I spoke, moving to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“I think I ate something bad,” she replied with her eyes still closed.

“What did you have to eat?”

“Er…a muffin?”

“You had a muffin. For dinner. Last night,” I repeated, then proceeded to _tsk._ “Merrill, the baby needs more food.”

Her eyes shot open. _“What?”_

“Girl, you’ve been sick almost every morning since we’ve been here. You’re always tired, and—”

“And your tits have gotten bigger,” Isabela finished for me.

“I—no—I’m not—I couldn’t possibly—”

“I’m pretty sure you are,” I said. Merrill stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes again.

“Oh, Creators,” she breathed.

My heart panged. I took her hand and said, “I wish I could stay and help you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here,” Isabela said. She patted Merrill’s knee. “I can scarcely believe it, so this must be a hundred times more insane for you.”

Merrill touched her stomach. “I…I’ve had a feeling for a few weeks, now. But I’ve been trying to ignore it.” Her beautiful eyes welled with tears. “I just…never thought that we’d have a child. Not at this moment in our lives. It’s terribly frightening.”

“Hey, now,” I consoled. “Merrill, you and Hawke are going to do great. Just as you always have. And you have us, too.”

“Save the crying for when the kid is being a brat,” Isabela said. Merrill weakly laughed.

“I suppose I’d better tell Garrett,” she softly spoke. “Could you send him up for me? I’d go myself, but I think I might vomit if I do.”

“We gotcha,” I winked, then leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “Please write and keep us updated. If I’m going to be an auntie, I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“Of course,” Merrill chuckled. “Goodbye, Alaran. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

Isabela and I left. When we saw Hawke talking with Bodahn in the parlor, I pulled him aside and said, “I think Merrill wants to share something with you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Just go, you idiot,” Isabela said, ushering Hawke to the stairs. When he looked back at us, there was something different in his eyes. They, within the span of a second, they widened exponentially. He made some sort of noise and bounded up to his room.

Isabela chuckled. “I don’t know if it’ll be better or worse for the world to get another Hawke.”

“Same, girl, same.”

Her eyes flitted to the doorway, smile disappearing. “Speaking of Hawkes,” she muttered, head tipping past my shoulder, “I think there’s someone here who wants to see you.”

I turned my head and stopped when I saw who Isabela was talking about.

Carver Hawke stood awkwardly near the entrance. He had sprouted a beard and his hair was cropped short, but it was him. I knew those blue eyes from anywhere.

I straightened my shoulders and walked up to meet him. A faint smile played on my lips, but was it a real one? I couldn’t be sure.

“Alaran,” Carver greeted. He began to reach his hand out, but midway hesitated and let it drop. “How…how are you?”

I got a closer look at him. There were dark circles under his eyes and his lips were chapped. There was a twitch in the left eyebrow and Carver couldn’t keep his fingers entirely still.

“I’m well,” I replied a bit too slowly. “And you?”

“Oh, you know. I just got back to Kirkwall today. Been hiding out from the templars in Tantervale.”

“Yeah. Aveline told me.”

There was a pause. I was aware that too many people were staring at us. Staring at me. “So, erm, I just wanted to say hello and—”

“You going through withdrawals?” I couldn’t help but intercede. Carver immediately started getting defensive.

“That’s the first thing you have to ask? If I’m going through withdrawals? It couldn’t have been anything else?”

“Well, can you blame me? We were all worried about you!” I caught myself and lowered my rising voice. “Nobody had heard from you in months, Carver. I’m happy you’re here, alive, but what happened?”

“The war happened, Alaran. The templars and the mages and the bloody hole in the sky happened. Sorry if I got slowed down because of it.”

I let out a breath and glanced down at the floor. Were there really going to be any more normal conversations between us? “I…it’s good to have you back, Carver. We missed you.” I looked back up at him and faintly smiled, knowing it was real. “Commander Cullen set up a templar rehabilitation center here in Kirkwall. It’s entirely new, but they could probably use some experienced hands such as yours.”

“A…rehabilitation center?”

“When the war started, a lot of templars quit lyrium or were forced to give it up because of the cut-off supply. The center is a place where those addicted to lyrium can find a place to recover and help others who are going through the exact same thing.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I—”

“Alny!” Kasi was suddenly grabbing at my hand, returning to being the little bossy lady that she was. “I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always hungry,” I sighed as I picked her up. Carver’s eyes were alight with surprise.

“Who is this?”

“Carver Hawke, meet Kasi Tethras,” I introduced. Carver’s jaw dropped a little. Kasi primly held out her hand, unafraid of the new stranger she was meeting. “Future heiress of the Tethras empire.”

“A pleasure, my lady,” Carver chuckled. Some of that old light returned to him. He took Kasi’s pudgy little hand and shook it once.

Bubba trotted up beside us and _boofed_ at Carver. He shoved his fat ol’ head into Carver’s leg so he’d get attention.

“And who’s this? A little boy, all grown up?” Carver asked as he crouched to jiggle Bubs’ jowls. Bubba licked the side of Carver’s face. He sputtered and groaned. “Ugh! Mabari slobber.”

“Hey, uh, well, we gotta go,” I said with a grimace. “The ships will be leaving soon and we don’t want to get caught up in any more storms this time of the year.”

“Right.” Carver stood and held out his hand. I firmly clasped it. “It was good seeing you, Alaran.”

“You too, Carver.”

I patted his shoulder, shifted Kasi in my arms, and headed for the doors. When I reached them, I turned and looked upon the estate one last time. It was still bustling with Inquisition workers and scribes who were trying to pack everything up before departure. But I was the last one of the Inner Circle to leave the place.

It wasn’t worth trying to analyze and acknowledge the emotions inside me. They were shifting too much, combining with one another to create unexplainable mixtures.

Kirkwall would always be my home. The estate, Hawke, Merrill, a new baby, everyone…they’d all be here when I returned again. Changed, probably. But that’s how it always went.  It’d be boring otherwise.

So I smiled a little to myself, took a breath, and pushed open the doors to leave.

-

“I’ll expect monthly reports, if not more,” I said to Aveline. We stood at the docks, getting in one final conversation before the ships sailed.

“You’ll have it,” Aveline responded. She gazed up at the Inquisition sails and wryly smiled. “Once Corypheus is dealt with, what will you do?”

I smirked. “Depends on what world-ending thing pops up next.”

“And if there isn’t one?”

Aveline and I shared a look before breaking down into chuckles. There’d always be threats and dangers. Maybe not world-ending, but dangerous nonetheless. Defenders like us knew that truth.

She clasped my hand. “Until next time, Alaran.”

“Until next time, Aveline.”

The captain of the City Guard watched as our ships sailed from her city. I stood on the deck and kept an eye on Kirkwall until it disappeared from view. It didn’t occur to me that I was crying until a breeze chilled the tears on my cheeks.

Varric and Bubba came and stood beside me as I quietly wiped away the wetness on my face. Kasi was in his arms, clutching the little pirate doll Isabela had gotten her. “It’s never going to get any easier,” he sighed. Bubs licked at my hand.

“No, it’s not,” I agreed with a small laugh.

“Don’t be sad, Alny,” Kasi said. “Don’t be sad.”

“Okay,” I smiled, reaching over and stroking her cheek. “If you say so.” Looking to Varric, I said, “Have you taken your medicine yet?”

“Nope. Can’t sleep if this one doesn’t.” He bounced Kasi and she giggled.

“Here, I’ll take her.”

“Nah, you’ve got too much to do as it is.”

I made a face. “Don’t worry about it. If I get too busy, there are plenty of others who’ll watch over her.”

Varric kissed Kasi’s cheek and handed her over to me. “Alright. She already had a snack, so if she tells you she hasn’t she’s lying.”

“A con artist, just like her father,” I joked as I sat the little lady on my hip. “Sleep well, Varric Warric.”

“Shut up, Al.”

As soon as Varric departed, I was met by Iron Bull. “Hey Boss, hey Kasi.”

“Bull!” Kasi exclaimed.

“What’s up, kid?” He smiled at her before moving that single pale green eye to me. “Boss, got a second?”

“I can spare a few,” I smirked. We walked to the bow of the ship where there weren’t as many ears.

“I got a letter from my contacts in the Ben-Hassrath. Already verified it with Red.”

“Reddddd!” Kasi screeched. I flinched at the sudden noise in my ear and shushed her.

“Alright, that’s fine. But what does this have to do with me? Not that I’m uninterested in all your and Leliana’s spy-games, but, I mean, I kind of have other things to do.”

“Yeah, I get it. The Ben-Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don’t like Corypheus or his Venatori. And they _really_ don’t like red lyrium.”

“Nobody should. They’re the worst.”

“They’re ready to work with us. With you, Boss. The Qunari and the Inquisition, joining forces.”

I stilled. It was obvious where Bull was going, but to hear him say it out loud…

_They’ll turn on us._

_Will they?_

“It’s an unprecedented offer, I’ll tell ya that,” I muttered, gaze turning to the expansive ocean. _“If_ I believe it was legitimate. Which I don’t.”

Bull chuckled, knowing the truth of it. “Now, ordinarily, that would be the way to go. But they’ve identified themselves. They’re not running a game on you.”

“Is that so?”

He leaned on the railing. “They’ve found a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the coast.”

“They want us to hit it together. Talked about brining in one of their dreadnoughts.”

I looked over and saw that Krem was suddenly standing there. Since when had he joined? “Hello, Your Worship,” he smiled.

“Krem,” I nodded, trusting his involvement in all this mess. “Continue.”

“Don’t have much more to say. Just always wanted to see one of those big warships in action.”

“Yet you can’t seem to see a shield when it’s coming right at you,” Bull snarked. Krem chuckled. “They’re worried about tipping the smugglers, so no army. My Chargers, you, maybe some backup.”

I wasn’t about to jump in with the idea of joining forces with the Qunari. “What does this alliance really get us?” I asked.

“Butts,” Kasi interjected.

“Not butts,” Bull corrected. “They wouldn’t use the word “alliance” if they didn’t mean it. Naval power. More Ben-Hassrath reports. Qunari soldiers pointed at the Venatori…it _could_ do a lot of good.”

My brows raised at Bull’s tone. “Yet you don’t seem entirely happy about this.”

“No, I’m good,” he answered, but it was off-kilter. “It’s, uh…I’m used to them being _over there._ It’s been a while.”

“And here I thought Qunari wanted to extend their reach to the whole world,” I replied with a sprinkle of sarcasm.

“Yeah. Just didn’t think I’d see it.”

_And you won’t._

Bull wasn’t afraid of that. He was afraid that he now belonged on the other side. With us. The rest of the world.

Then I wouldn’t be afraid for him.

“Look,” Bull went on, “the Qun answers a lot of questions. It’s a good life for a lot of people. But it’s a big change. And a lot of folks here wouldn’t do so well under that kind of life.”

 _Yourself included?_ I almost asked. Instead I pursed my lips and said, “You’re jumping to the whole conversion thing awfully quickly, Bull. I thought it was just us joining forces against Corypheus.”

“And it is, Boss.”

“It is,” Kasi agreed. I’d have to stop bringing her into conversations like these—she’d turn into a cutthroat politician in no time.

Then again, what was the harm in that?

“They’re worried about tipping the smugglers, so no army. My Chargers, you, maybe some backup.”

After a few moments of consideration, I sighed and nodded. “Alright. You have a deal. Let’s see where this goes. Where are we meeting?”

“Storm Coast. Thought it’d be perfect to take a detour there and be back a day after the rest of the Inquisition gets back to Skyhold.”

“Aw, man. It just has to be like that, doesn’t it?”

Bull chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry, Boss.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. We’ll get it done.”

“Good. I’ll pass on word to Cullen and Red. We can set up the meeting whenever you’re ready.”

As I was left standing alone on the bow of the ship, I couldn’t deny the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

-

We watched the rest of the Inquisition forces depart as rained poured down on our heads. I had my helm on and already I could feel water sluicing down the back of my neck.

“Let’s get moving,” Bull rumbled. “The meeting point is still a half-day’s ride.”

“I hate this,” Dorian said to me as we got onto our mounts. “I hate this so much.”

“Then why did you volunteer to come?” I retorted, even though I already knew the answer.

“Because you know as well as I do that this is _not normal,”_ Dorian replied in a lower tone. “Something bad is bound to happen.”

And Dorian cared about Bull, though he didn’t dare admit it. But a Qunari and a Tevinter? That kind of relationship was unheard of. Dorian said they were just having fun, but the way they talked and touched each other belied him.

The rain had intensified by the time we reached the meeting point. It was on one of the eastern side of the coast. If one traveled another day, they’d reach the Amaranthine Ocean.

“Alright, our Qunari contact should be here to meet us,” Bull said as we walked into an abandoned encampment.

“He is,” a voice said. Out of nowhere an elf appeared and walked up to us. My ears involuntarily flattened. I didn’t like people that quiet. Hana was that quiet, and she was a freak.

The elf grinned when he saw Bull and fondly said, “Good to see you again, Hissrad.”

“Gatt!” Bull exclaimed, tossing his arms up in the air. “Last I heard, you were still in Seheron!”

“They finally decided I’d calmed down enough to go back out into the world,” Gatt replied.

“Boss, this is Gatt. We worked together in Seheron.”

“Apparently,” I only said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor. Hissrad’s reports say you’re doing good work.”

I gazed at Gatt through the slits of my helm. “I’m only here because we both want to stop Corypheus.”

“Indeed. The Tevinter Imperium is bad enough without the interference of this Venatori cult.”

“Yes,” Dorian suddenly said. I could feel the sarcasm rolling off him without even having to turn to look. “Filthy, decadent brutes, the lot of them. I’m certain life would be much better for all of us under the Qun.”

_Oh, Dorian. You’re not helping._

“It was for me,” Gatt continued to smile, “after the Qunari rescued me from slavery in Tevinter. I was eight. The Qun isn’t perfect, but it gave me a better life.”

“Yes, one free from all that pointless free will and independent thought,” Dorian snapped back. “Such an improvement.”

I finally turned to him. I didn’t like the Qun that much, but he was talking like Tevinter was a bowl full of sunshine. “The Imperium and the Qunari both have problems,” I said to him, voice cutting through the downpour. “And if we don’t start getting on our way with this, we’ll have problems as well.”

Dorian sighed. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

The look on his face told me more than the disdain he had for followers of the Qun. It wordlessly spoke of worry and trepidation. He feared for Iron Bull and whatever was going to happen next.

As was I.

-

The Venatori corpse made a satisfying sound as Queenkiller was yanked out of his spinal cord. The rest of the camp had been taken care of, it looked like.

Sera sidled up to me as I used the corpse to wipe blood off my blade. “Don’t like the feel of this, Quizzy,” she murmured. “It’s too quiet. Something’s gonna go bad.”

We all had that feeling, Bull included. I knew my companions well enough to recognize their own senses telling them something wasn’t right.

Gatt lit the signal for the dreadnought. The encampment we had cleared overlooked a vast amount of the area. And through the heavy rain I saw the Chargers set up to fight on the other side, who had cleared a camp of their own.

“I knew you gave them the easier job,” Gatt said to Iron Bull. He smirked, but it was tight and forced.

Something dark and big rose from the roiling ocean waves. “There’s the dreadnought,” Bull pointed out to me. “Ah. That brings back memories.”

My eyes were drawn to movement on the shore below. “Oh, no,” I whispered.

Bull followed my gaze and saw a rather large contingent of Venatori and their mages headed in the opposite direction of us—right towards the Chargers.

“Crap,” he said flatly.

I turned to him. “The Chargers can’t stand against that kind of force, Bull.”

“No,” he agreed, single eye fixed on his men. “They can’t.”

“Your men need to hold that position, Bull,” Gatt reminded firmly. I looked to the Ben-Hassrath and felt something hot rise within me.

Anger. It was anger.

“They do that, they’re dead.”

“And if they don’t, the Venatori retake it and the dreadnought is dead,” Gatt argued. “You’d be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari!” When there was only silence, he desperately said, “You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!”

I only raised an eyebrow.

Gatt looked back to the dreadnought’s proximity to the Venatori ship. “With all you’ve given the Inquisition, half the Ben-Hassrath think you’ve betrayed us already! I stood up for you, Hissrad! I told them you would _never_ become Tal-Vashoth!”

Bull’s eye narrowed and he pointed a finger at Gatt. “They’re _my_ men.”

“I know. But you need to do what’s right, Hissrad…for this alliance, and for the Qun.”

The Iron Bull looked to me to see what he should do. No words came out of my mouth. He could read my face easily enough to know what _I_ wanted him to do…but ultimately, Bull had to make his own choice. It was pivotal. It was essential. The choice in of itself was the decision to continue following the Qun or continue leading the Bull’s Chargers.

And when the corner of my mouth twitched, Bull was able to see that the alliance wasn’t super important to me, anyways.

When Bull unlatched his horn and loudly blew it over the heavy rain, I triumphantly smirked. Sera hollered and jumped onto Dorian, who couldn’t hide his plain relief. “They’re falling back!” she shouted. We watched as the Chargers safely retreated into the tree line and escaped from Venatori sights.

Gatt looked on in utter disbelief. He slowly shook his head, betrayal bright in his eyes. “All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For this? For _them?”_ He angrily gestured to me.

I stepped forward and let my own anger show. “His _name_ is Iron Bull,” I spoke.

Rain washed away the tension before it could even build. Gatt wiped away slick hair sticking to his forehead. A look of resignation befell him. “I suppose it is.”

The fiery explosion on the water drew our attention back to the dreadnought. The Venatori mages had struck critical hits with powerful magic that made the Anchor spark. I hid it behind my back and rode through the familiar pain.

“No way they’ll get out of range,” Bull said. “Won’t be long now.”

“Bull, when the dreadnought sinks…”

“Sinks?” he scoffed. “Qunari dreadnoughts don’t sink.”

The dreadnought lit up the sky as it was racked with explosions. It…wasn’t a happy sight. Even though the Chargers were saved, there was still loss. The alliance I didn’t care so much about, but all those lives…gone.

I had to live with it, though. Just like every decision I ever made as the Inquisitor.

“Come on,” Bull said, finally tearing his eye away from his past life. “Let’s get back to my boys.”

-

Boss was a force. Had been from the moment they met on the same shores they were now leaving. Bull could tell in an instant she was ill back then, but then he hadn’t known just _how_ ill. It was hard to tell when she could still swing a greatsword around with ease.

They talked jokingly when beginning the initial discussions. She wanted the Chargers but wasn’t going to jump right into the deal without making a few jibes first. Bull started to like her. Pretty hot, too, with a sharp smirk and a nice ass.

After the deal was made and Bull got up to leave, Boss said something to him that nobody else had. Nobody except him.

_You will be faced with the possibility of becoming Tal-Vashoth. Can you handle that reality if it comes true?”_

Those words had cut into Bull like a carving knife. They never fully healed. Each day as he drew further and further from the path of the Qun, Boss’ words echoed in his mind like a poison with no antidote. It only poisoned him because he let it, because a part of him already knew he was one. He had just never admitted it.

The other part of him swore that he’d die before becoming Tal-Vashoth.

But here he was, staring into a fire as rain dropped onto the barrier above them. It was just Al and Bull. Sera and Dorian had already retired to their tents. Gatt had found them again just past dusk, informing that there wouldn’t be an alliance between the Qun and the Inquisition. They wouldn’t get any more reports from the Ben-Hassrath.

Gatt hadn’t come to kill Bull. _No,_ he had replied. _The Ben-Hassrath have already lost one good man. They’d rather not lose two._

And Boss said she was proud of him. But for what? The Inquisition had been dealt a blow for sacrificing the alliance. They’d be blinded in spots that were now more important than ever to see.

To know that Boss thought what he did was right meant a lot, though. It always surprised Bull a bit when he found himself glowing at Alaran’s approval.

She could have told him what to do. To call the retreat. But she didn’t because she knew what Bull needed to more than he did. Accept being Tal-Vashoth. Accept being free. Save the Chargers.

His _name_ is Iron Bull.

Boss eventually stood after a long silence. She didn’t need to talk to him. Wasn’t his way.

As she passed, she tossed him a pouch the size of his hand. It was filled with some powdery substance. Bull loosened the cords and inhaled the smell within the pouch. A smile formed on his face.

Cocoa powder. She probably got it in Kirkwall for an outrageously expensive price. It wasn’t fair that back on her planet someone could get cocoa powder for hardly anything at all. _That’s capitalist consumerism for ya,_ she had shrugged.

Alaran probably heard Dorian come out of their tent the moment she stepped into hers.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the long wait! I just finished up with a play at my community theater, so between that, working, writing my other fanfic and writing an actual story, things have been busy. Thanks for reading, and thanks for sticking with this story through everything.
> 
> Please stay lovely. You're all so worth it.


	72. Her Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al does some companion quests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy everyone.
> 
> So obviously I haven't updated in a looong time. I had to deal with a major case of writer's block and really had to push myself to get a new chapter in. I'm sorry if it doesn't make up for the long wait, but I promise there are some pretty cool things in store.

Cassandra met us in the Hinterlands. They had pinpointed the whereabouts of the Seekers at Caer Oswin, and she wanted to investigate it personally. It would delay our return to Skyhold another couple of days, but this was important to her. Important to me.

Each step further into the fortress was a step closer to vileness. I felt it. We all felt it. And the secrets that lay within were even worse. Seekers being tortured to find out why they were resistant to red lyrium. The Promisers. Corypheus.

Daniel. The demons infesting him.

Lord Seeker Lucius. The real one.

An order destroyed.

All of this could have been prevented had it not been for me. If I had just set my selfish secrets aside and _said_ to Cass that that Lord Seeker Lucius spitting vitriol in the middle of Val Royeaux was _not him._ I sensed it and said nothing. Did nothing. For such an advocate of taking action when nobody else would, I simply stood by without so much as a protest.

Sure, I told Leliana to send word to Red Templars who were beginning to doubt their commands that they’d find refuge with the Inquisition. And some did join. Barris and Rylen and others excelled under their new posts, their new lives.

But so much life…wasted.

_“I presume you know we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition. We fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago, as you do now. And we became proud. We sought to remake the world—to make it better. But what did we create? The Chantry. The Circles of Magi. A war that will see no end.”_

Lord Seeker Lucius was a demented, insane man, but he wasn’t lying about them being the original Inquisition. I knew our history. How the Inquisition came into existence before _we_ became to be.

 _“We’re not the same,”_ I had snarled.

Would we become the same, though? If the Inquisition goes on, will it do to its future followers what the Wardens have done, the Templars have done, the Seekers have done?

Probably.

Cassandra and I both laid in the tent we shared, silent but sleepless. I didn’t ask her what was in the book, even though she had already read some on our journey back. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Cassandra was asking herself the same thing I was. Except she was the one to initiate the foundation of the new Inquisition. I imagined she was feeling just as much guilt and weight.

The Inquisition wouldn’t last. Nothing ever did.

So, we’d just have to do as much good as long as we were able to.

-

Skyhold was a sight for sore eyes.

The mountain path already had a light layer of snow on them, and I had to readjust my scarf so it protected my ears from the chilly temperatures. If Bull was cold, he didn’t complain. He just joked about his nipples being as hard as those shit-spires the Inquisition was forced to make to clear the road on the Storm Coast. And, fun fact, they still proudly stood by the time we returned. I wanted to immortalize them as some sort of commemoration, but all three of the advisors shot it down.

But it’s still on the table. So we’d see who was better at steamrolling their opinions.

(Hint: it’s me.)

“Have you decided who you’re going to take on the next campaign?” Cassandra asked as we ascended the path.

I made a face. “No. Mostly because I don’t want to go on another campaign at all.”

“What? Why?” Bull said. “You love campaigning, Boss! All the fighting! All the badassery!”

“No, _you_ love campaigning for those reasons. I like seeing areas stabilized because of what we did and helping people.”

 _“Which_ is because of all the fighting and badassery.”

“He’s got a point there,” Sera agreed, joining the conversation. She had a cloak draped across her shoulders. “We do a lot of amazing things. ‘Cause, you know, we’re badass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” I heaved a sigh and, before answering, waved at the soldiers stationed at Skyhold’s first outpost tower. We would pass another two until Skyhold itself came into view again.

The soldiers enthusiastically waved back from atop the tower. “Good to see you, Inquisitor!” one of them shouted.

“And good to see you, Bull!” shouted the other—with a little more connotation. Bull pumped his fist at them and laughed.

“So? Why do you not want to campaign?” Cassandra said, returning to the conversation when we passed.

“Because it takes me away from Skyhold,” I replied. “Pretty much the only thing. I don’t like being gone for months on end. Sure, I get reports, and I know it’s a self-sufficient place, but…”

“But it’s home,” Dorian finished for me.

“Right. And I’ll only be here another week or two until we leave again, if that.”

“Just take Solas, you’ll be fine,” Sera said. “And Bubba. Though I don’t think _he_ likes being away from Tiny Tethras.”

We all shared a good laugh, knowing the truth of the statement.

After passing the final outpost, the sweet sound of horses’ hooves clopping on stone made me smile. We crossed over the great bridge that permitted access to Skyhold. The portcullis was wide open, and soldiers posted at the entrance greeted us with smiles and arms held firm against their breast.

There were more than a few statements similar to “Look! The Inquisitor’s back!” but there hadn’t been an official celebration ever since our first return from Inquisition business. Skyhold was too efficient for that. It made me swell with pride.

The grounds were warmer than the rest of the mountains it dwelled on. Our coats and cloaks came off before we even made it to the stables. “It feels good to be back!” Sera crowed as she stretched out. She, Bull and Dorian went off to the tavern. Bull had his hand on Dorian’s shoulder as they left and…yeah, those two weren’t going to be doing their own thing anytime, soon.

Cassandra and I walked back out into the open, our packs over our shoulders and the Seeker’s book under her arm. “Will you share with me what you find when you finish?” I asked her.

“Yes.” Cassandra wasn’t a person who outwardly showed any emotion, but I could tell that the secrets contained within those pages were troubling. “Thank you again, Inquisitor, for coming with me.”

“It was the least I could do,” I said a little too quietly. Cassandra was too engrossed in her own thoughts, however, to notice.

We split up as soon as we reached the stairs leading to the main hall. I made my way in, excited to see Solas and even more excited to get into a bath and play the Led Zeppelin vinyl I found at the Black Emporium. Afterwards was a meeting set up with the advisers to go over finances, priorities, and looming threats. I wanted to fall back into routine and get as much done before the next campaign would kick off.

It was unsurprising, though, when I was interceded by Mother Giselle on my way to my room. “Inquisitor, a moment?”

I learned that whenever somebody said such a phrase it never lead to anything good. “Of course,” I smiled. “What is it, Mother Giselle?”

We slowly walked to the side of the hall that wasn’t overtly occupied. “It’s good of you to speak with me.” Her voice was lower than normal, _definitely_ leading me to believe that I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear. “I have news regarding one of your…companions. The Tevinter.”

I kept my face composed, but the sharpness edged into my voice. “Has he been mocking the fashion style of Chantry robes, again? I told him those were the styles of the Maker.”

Mother Giselle breathed an unamused laugh. “This is another matter, Inquisitor. I have been in contact with his family: House Pavus, out of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?”

“He’s mentioned his family,” I deigned to admit. “They don’t appear to be on good terms.”

“Yes, I believe you’re correct. The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid. They’ve asked to arrange a meeting, quietly, without telling him. They fear it’s the only way he’ll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I’d hoped…”

Over the course of Mother Giselle’s explanation, both my brows had raised, and my mouth twisted into a grimace. And when she prompted that I lie to Dorian, my ears then laid themselves flat against my skull.

“You can’t possibly believe that I’d ever trick Dorian into meeting with his family,” I almost outright snapped.

Mother Giselle sighed and demurely looked down at her loosely clasped hands. “I feared you might say that. The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe tavern to take him onward. If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there. I pray you change your mind, Inquisitor. Perhaps their letter will persuade you. If there is any chance of success in this, it behooves us to act.” She reached into a pocket and handed me a finely folded piece of parchment. After a moment, I took it and nodded once to excuse Mother Giselle.

As I continued to my quarters, I unfolded the letter and read through its contents. My heart sunk lower the further I read. Partially because of the implications, and partially because it was Dorian’s own father who had written it.

I’d tell him about it tomorrow. After he had a good night and a break from the usual traumas of the Inquisition.

-

“What did you want to see me for?” Hana asked as she walked up to me in the garden. I lounged on a bench with a sketchpad and a fancy piece of drawing charcoal. The sun had already dipped below the garden walls, but there was still light and still a sense of peacefulness. Solas had spent the day with me whenever he could, and just left to gather some dinner for us so we could eat it outside instead of in my quarters.

“Good to see you too, Hana,” I smirked. “Here, cop a squat.”

She sat down next to me. “I was in the middle of researching, you know. Pretty important stuff regarding stabilization of the Veil without use of the Anchor.”

“Yeah, I do know, because I was the one who sanctioned the research.” I closed the sketchpad—which was just a mixture of scribbles and half-composed music notes—and stretched. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

Hana idly tugged at a strand of curly black hair. Half of it was pulled back in a bun while the rest hung loose about her back and shoulders. “So? What is it?”

“You mentioned that you were studying to become a marine biologist,” I recollected, reopening the sketchbook and trying to find the pages I was looking for. “So you probably know a thing or two about oceans and stuff.”

“Yeah. A thing or two.”

“The Inquisition is expanding its research and exploration departments. We’re sending scholars and smart people _all over_ to just…find out more about the world. They’re paid generously and have access to pretty much anything they need. We only ask them to be out in the field for a couple of months, but don’t restrict them if they want to stay out longer.”

I flipped to the right page. “Ah. Here it is.” Hana and I regarded the sketches I had done a few weeks back, when the monster of the storm hit on the coast and revealed _actual_ monsters underneath those ginormous rolling waves. “These guys. I personally want to know more about these guys.”

Hana took the sketchpad from me. “You’re a good artist. Which isn’t surprising. I’ve come across a few of these mates swimming and stuff.”

I raised a brow. “How deep have you swum?”

The mage shrugged. “Dunno. Deep enough where the light don’t shine.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about! You have such an amazing skillset, Hana. You _have_ superpowers! Why not put them to good use?”

She gave me a deadpan look. “You want me to go and explore the oceans, don’t you?”

 _“And_ study and report your findings! Come on, Hana. This is what you would have done back on Earth. Should you accept, you’d be Thedas’ first scholar to _really_ research the ocean and its inhabitants. And you love the ocean, don’t you? I mean, yeah, this—” I pointed to a sketch of the ocean monster that swam with limbs instead of fins— “could possibly eat you. But what’s the fun if there’s nothing to fear?”

“How long would I be gone?”

“Six weeks at the minimum. And if you don’t like it, you can return to the tasks you have now.”

“And can I choose to go anywhere?”

“Yes, technically you can, but for this first expedition I’d prefer if you stayed at one of the Inquisition’s coastal outposts. It’ll be easier to keep track of things on the spymaster’s end.”

Hana gave a slow nod. The gears in her heard were spinning, trying to decide if she wanted to jump on the opportunity or not. “Where are the outposts?”

“There’s three total on the Storm Coast. One near Jader in Orlais, one at the foot of the Vimmarks, and another by the Wounded Coast. Two new outposts have been set up, too. There’s one just outside of Amaranthine and another between the Brecilian Forest and the Korcari Wilds. But I don’t know how that last one will turn out. It’s mostly an outpost to track down criminals hiding out there and keeping tabs on darkspawn. ”

Hana contemplated the choices, finger still twining around her hair. “I’ve never been that far south. It’s a lot of uncharted territory, right?”

“Yeah. Most ships don’t even go that way.” My eyes narrowed as I tried hard to push out the memory of what the Valo-Kas and I saw in the Frozen Wastes. “And for good reason.”

“Hm. Think I might go there.”

I wryly chuckled. “I’m not sure I should have even mentioned that one.”

It was Hana’s turn to smirk. A rarity, for sure. “Did you think I’d choose anything else?”

“Not really. So is this a yes?” I eagerly prompted.

“Maybe. Can I choose a couple of mages who I want to take with me?”

“If they agree to going with you, yeah.”

“And what about my work here? It’s pretty important.”

I gave Hana a look. “It is. But the work will get finished, with or without you. The contributions you make will definitely be missed, but I can’t think of anyone else who can do what I’m asking of you.”

She leaned back and tilted her head up to the sky. It had rapidly gotten darker, though a few inklings dusk still remained. “Yeah, alright. Guess I’ll do it.”

I kicked my legs out and fist-pumped. _“Yeah, alright!_ Way to go Hana!”

She stood. “Give me the details tomorrow. Your lover is back.” I looked in the direction of one of the entrances and saw Solas approaching with a tray.

“Okay. See you, Hana.” I was still beaming at her back as she walked away.

Solas was smiling as he sat down the spot Hana was seated at moments ago. “I’m guessing it went well?”

“Oh, it went _very_ well. Hana may just become Thedas’ first marine biologist.”

That made Solas chuckle. “Good. Now, shall we eat?”

“You don’t mind eating in the dark, do you? We could always go inside.”

“And waste this precious time alone outside of our quarters?” Solas scoffed. “I think not.”

I looked around the garden and found that it was actually very empty. “Oh! Well, whaddya know. I’m sure somebody’s watching.” I snuggled close to Solas and enjoyed his comfortable shoulder. “But let’s pretend they aren’t.”

“Agreed.” Solas opened a metal dish cover. “Can I interest you in a pheasant breast?”

“You can.” We grabbed our forks and began to eat our meals.

“So, where will this campaign take you?” Solas asked between bites.

“We’re going to Emprise du Lion. It’s no secret that there’s been Red Templar activity, but until recently we just found out that it’s a lot worse than we anticipated. Clues about Samson’s whereabouts might be there, too.” I swallowed the food in my mouth and waved the dinner fork around. “Then we’re going to make a quick detour through the Exalted Plains and Emerald Graves to ensure that things are as stabilized as the reports have been saying.”

“That sounds like a short campaign.”

“Oh, I’m not finished. After that’s said and done, we’re headed off to the Hissing Wastes.”

Solas’ fork paused halfway to his mouth. His eyes reflected in the dark. “The Hissing Wastes? But… _why?”_

I laughed at his reaction and continued eating. “Venatori. Loads of them. Because why _wouldn’t_ the bad guys hang out in a scorching desert?”

“I think I’ve changed my mind about going with you,” Solas said. He then perked up and switched his excuse. “Oh—wait. No. Something has come up that requires my presence here. Terribly sorry. There can be nothing done about it.”

I elbowed him. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not. I just about went crazy these past few days with you gone. Even though you’re a grumpy old man, I’m in a much better mood whenever you’re around.”

“Alaran, do you know how cold it gets in Emprise du Lion during the winter?”

“It won’t be winter _yet.”_

“By the time we get there, it will. And after that, we’ll go to a place that’s near-uninhabitable because of how hot it is?”

“Funny, right?”

“Oh, hilarious,” Solas deadpanned. I picked vegetables from the side dish, noting the Free Marcher spices to flavor it. The taste made me miss Kirkwall for a few seconds. “Who else are you taking with you?”

“Cole, Iron Bull, Blackwall. Maybe Sera and Dorian. Cassandra’s a slim chance. Varric wants to go, but I’m not so sure he can leave Kasi for that long.” Solas hummed in agreement. “Vivienne is going with us to Emprise du Lion, but will head back after we finish there.”

Solas’ hum wasn’t so agreeable this time. I sighed and said, “Honestly, you two have absolutely no reason to dislike each other.”

“She believes mages—”

“I _know_ what she believes, Solas. Do I agree with some of it? No. Do I agree with most of it? Yes.” He sighed upon realizing I was going to rant. “If you can just see past her Circle views, you’ll recognize her for the extraordinary, intelligent mage that she is. Vivienne was thrown into an unwinnable system and _won._ It’s not her fault she believes certain things because of it. And you know as well as I do that our alchemy department would barely be anything if it wasn’t for her. _And_ our political relations with Orlais. I mean, I did kind of kill the Empress of Orlais, and they still love us because of her and Josie’s doings.” I adjusted my seat and added in a mutter, “Both of you are so prickly it’s a wonder you don’t mesh better.”

He harrumphed but didn’t try to argue. “Are you going to support her claim for the Divine’s position?”

I gave Solas the side-eye. “No. Vivienne’s talents have uses elsewhere.”

“Does she know this, yet?”

“She suspects. But I’m not making an official statement for a while.” I started picking at the strawberry cake dessert earlier than what would be considered respectable. “I’m thinking of something, Solas.”

“And what is that?”

“Colleges. For mages. Doesn’t matter if you have the money or not. If you’re a mage you can study. After all this is over, I want to start focusing on that. There won’t be any templars, just rules and other mages to regulate. Any race can study there, too.” I didn’t mention it to Solas, but if a college was established (and it would) I’d make Vivienne head of it.

“Admirable goals. Much more complicated in reality.”

“For sure. But I mean, come on, look who you’re talking to?” I spread my arm out and made a cool face. “The one girl who can get it done!”

Solas chuckled and kissed my cheek. His soft, familiar lips pressing against my skin made me glow inside. “That you are.”

-

Alaran had enough work already. She was in meetings with the advisers for more than half the day, then managed to get even more things done before daylight fled. And with the changing season, those hours of sunlight were quickly shortening.

And despite that, despite everything Alaran had on her plate, she still chose to go with Dorian to Redcliffe and face his father.

Alaran had been honest. Why wouldn’t she be? Dorian knew right away that something was wrong when she met him in his nook with a bottle of wine she wasn’t going to be drinking out of. And Maker, he needed it if he was going to get through _that_ conversation.

He and his father made amends—tenuous, short-term amends, but there was hope. Alaran made it clear she had no love or respect for Halward; Dorian thoroughly enjoyed being friends with the Inquisitor because she could say anything she wanted to people with no fear of consequences. Including magisters. But despite sharp words delivered with cold fury, she wasn’t going to let Dorian walk away without seeing if it was possible to pick up the pieces.

Dorian wasn’t friends with just the Inquisitor. He was friends with Alaran. And Andraste preserve those who hurt her friends.

They sat in the candle-lit nook together, Dorian drinking an adequate red while Alaran sipped on some sweet-smelling tea. The library was empty save for the two of them. Her hair was getting longer on top, he observed, pushed back instead of parted to the side.

“He says we’re alike,” Dorian found himself saying when the silence became too loud. “Too much pride.” He looked out the window, expecting to see something in the darkness outside. “Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I’m not certain. I…don’t know if I can forgive him.”

Alaran gazed at Dorian with sincere violet eyes. “Are you alright?” she asked.

When was the last time somebody had ever asked him that question?

“No,” he admitted, feeling his throat start to ache. “Not really.” Dorian quickly took another sip of wine to quell whatever emotions were rising. “Thank you for bringing me out there. It wasn’t what I expected, but…it’s something.” Laughing bitterly, he added, “Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by that?” Alaran set her tea aside and leaned forward, pointing a finger at Dorian. “Your dad tried to twist you into something you’re not. Yet here you stand, unchanged and voluntarily here because you knew the difference between right and wrong. Why would I think of you differently, Dorian? The only difference I can note is I have even more respect and admiration for you than I did before.” She absently played with the raised scar across her throat, ignoring the fact that Dorian’s eyes unexpectedly welled with tears. “You have every right in the world to love who you want to love, to live the way you want to live. And when you go back to Tevinter—oh, don’t give me that look, I know you’re going to when this is all over—you are going to show everyone who ever underestimated you that _you_ are someone to be heard. Someone that cannot be ignored.”

Alaran settled back in her chair and faintly smiled. “This may feel like a calamity to you now, but it will pass. And you will prevail.” She picked up her tea again and drank from it. “Then one day you’ll look back on this and realize that you’re alright.”

Dorian smiled and drank from his goblet of wine. Yes, he supposed he’d be alright. With somebody like Alaran at his side, she’d make sure he would be.

-

Cassandra didn’t look all that happy as I walked into her “room.” It was an odd place to sleep above Skyhold’s makeshift pantry and unofficial storage space, but hey, whatever worked for her.

“How was the read?” I asked, taking a seat at the table. “Not that good, from the look on your beautiful face.”

Cassandra sighed and placed a hand on top of the ancient book cover. “This tome has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the old Inquisition. And now it falls to me.”

“And so it does,” I said. I would have made a joke, but even sometimes my senses tell me when it’s inappropriate.

“I believe you are aware of what the Rite of Tranquility is?”

“Yes.”

Cassandra looked down at the tome in front of her, face unreadable. “The last resort used on mages in the Circle, leaving them unable to cast but depriving them of dreams and all emotions. It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities…but that has not always been the case.”

“Does the book say it was used for other things?” I inquired.

“No. As a Seeker, I looked into…abuses. Mages made Tranquil as punishment. What finally began the mage rebellion was a discovery the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed.”

I covered my mouth with a hand and continued to listen to Cassandra. “The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up—harshly. There were deaths. It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of its discovery in addition to what happened in Kirkwall…” She shook her head and lifted her gaze up to me. There was bitterness. Bitterness and helplessness. “But it appears we’ve _always_ known how to reverse the rite. From the beginning.”

After a short silence, I eventually muttered, “Honestly, that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

Cassandra rubbed her hands together as she prepared to unveil another secret. “We created the Rite of Tranquility,” she softly spoke.

I raised an eyebrow but stayed silent to let her go on. “To become a Seeker, I spent months in a vigil, emptying myself of all emotion. I was made Tranquil and did not even know. Then the vigil summoned a spirit of faith to touch my mind. That broke Tranquility—and gave me my abilities. The Seekers did not share that secret. Not with me, not with the Chantry, not even with…” Her lips twisted and she suddenly stood to walk over to the window. “There’s more,” Cassandra admitted. I left my seat to stand beside her.

“Lucius was not wrong about the Order. I thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now I’m not certain it deserves to be built. At some point, power becomes its own master. We cast aside ideals in favor of expedience and tell ourselves it was all necessary. For the people. What will happen to us, Inquisitor? Will we repeat history?”

I leaned against the wall and adjusted my glasses. “I can’t foresee the future, Cassandra,” I shrugged. “And I doubt those who do would deign to tell us.”

“But we know the past,” she said with quiet ferventness. “Those who do not heed history are doomed to repeat it.”

Tilting my head, I asked, “If you did rebuild the Seekers, how would you do it?”

She crossed her arms. “I can’t be the only one remaining. We were always spread to the winds, and some may still be out there. I would find them, one by one. We would all read this book—no more secrets. Then together we would establish a new charter. The Maker’s work, in truth.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You keep saying that, Cass, but what _is_ ‘The Maker’s work?’”

“There is no way to know for certain. That is why we must seek it out. Perhaps we lost our way because we stopped looking.”

I waved a hand towards the window. The sky was gray, threatening snow but never releasing any. By the time we’d make it back from the campaign there’d be a layer of white even in Skyhold. Or, at least that’s what Solas promised. “Then it already sounds like you know what to do, Cassandra. Rebuild the seekers. Make them better than they were.”

Cassandra finally showed a smile. “Thank you, Alaran. I could not have done this on my own.”

It was my turn to appear perturbed. Playing with the scarf around my neck, I said to Cassandra, “There’s something I have to confess.”

“What’s that?”

“I…I’ve kinda always known that you were touched by a spirit.”

Her brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“There was a...a _thing_ I noticed about you the first time we met. Something, uh, spirit-y. But you didn’t seem possessed or even inhabited by one, so I let it drop? And then I got so used to the faint glow that I lost sight of it.”

Cassandra scoffed. “And you didn’t think to inform me of this?”

I made a face at the Seeker. “Cass. You’re not the most pro-magic person I’ve met. If I told you that there were signs that a spirit touched you, I might have gotten killed on the spot. Or you just wouldn’t have believed me.”

She scowled. “I think not.”

“Really?”

A pause. “Alright,” Cassandra eventually sighed. “I…may not have reacted well to the information.”

We shared small smiles. I didn’t tell Cassandra about how I could sense that the Lord Seeker Lucius we encountered in Val Royeaux all that time ago wasn’t the true one. I didn’t tell her that if I had said something, we could have prevented more, saved more. There were templars who fled the Order here at Skyhold making new lives for themselves, yes, but what about the Seekers? Maybe they were scattered to the wind, like she said. Maybe she’d have to start from the ground up only to have it collapse again.

But there had been enough heartbreak for one day. I invited Cassandra to spar with me, and that’s what we did.

 

 

 


	73. A Worthwhile Campaign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al goes campaigning and finds some old pals

The morning of our departure, Krem met with me alone in my chambers. We spoke while I put on armor and stuffed the rest of my bags for the long campaign ahead of us.

“How’s Bull doing?” I inquired as I stood in front of the mirror and made sure my hair looked fine. “He tried brushing off the attack, but…”

“But we both knew that he must have been affected more deeply,” Krem finished. He sat in my office chair, nibbling on the breakfast I didn’t want.

“Yeah. I mean, how can anybody _not_ be?” I gave my head a shake and turned away from the mirror, going back to the bed where the packs were. “I originally wanted him to join us, but the more I think about it, the more reservations I have. What happened to him scars people, and with such a recent wound I’m not sure he’s ready yet. Even if he doesn’t think so.”

“I understand, Inquisitor,” Krem said. “But I think either way, he’ll be surrounded by friends. If he stays, he’s with the Chargers. If he goes, he’ll be with you.” After a small pause, he added, “And do you think he’d like it very much if you told him to stay?”

“No,” I sighed. “He’d give me one of those looks that make me feel like I’ve disappointed myself more than him. And _I’m_ the Inquisitor!”

Krem chuckled. “Yeah, I know those looks all too well.”

I slung my pack over a shoulder and tucked the dragon helm under an arm. “Is he all packed and stuff?”

“As far as I know? Yeah.”

I blew a small raspberry and considered my choices. Krem ate the rest of the breakfast and, now that I thought of it, I was actually hungry.

After making a disgruntled noise, I said, “I’ll let him come. But if things get too bad out there, I’m sending him back and you’d better meet him halfway for some contract to complete. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Krem said through a mouthful of muffin. He stood and followed me out of the chambers. “Can we take Bubs if that’s the case?”

“If you can convince him to leave Skyhold, yeah. He acts like such an old man, now.”

“Because he _is_ an old man.”

I gasped, affronted. “He is not! He’s in peak condition! I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“Please don’t,” Krem said with his infectious laugh. “I couldn’t stand him being upset with me.”

-

Varric, Kasi and Bubs were waiting for me in the great hall. It wasn’t super early in the morning, but Kasi slept on her dad’s shoulder. She was wrapped up in a blanket Josephine got for her the first week she came to Skyhold. It desperately needed to be washed.

“Glad you’re not leaving at the ass-crack of dawn,” Varric said. “See, Al? Isn’t it nice to function like a normal person?”

“I hate it,” I grumbled. “We’re leaving so late. We could have been halfway to Emprise du Lion by now.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure of that.” Varric adjusted Kasi, whose dark brown hair was unkempt and stuck up in several directions. “Did you pack warm clothes?”

“That, and summer ones,” I replied. “This campaign is going to be loads of fun. You sure you don’t want to come?”

“As fun as gallivanting through extreme terrains sounds, I think I’ll pass. Just be sure to send letters.”

“I will.” I bent down and hugged Varric, trying not to let emotions burn at the back of my throat. I wasn’t going to see him, Kasi, Bubs, or anyone else for weeks. Maye even more than a month.

After kissing Kasi on her soft child’s cheek, I crouched down and embraced Bubberston. He licked my ear and whined. “I’ll miss you too, baby boy. Make sure this place doesn’t burn down while I’m away.”

He affirmatively _boofed._ Smiling, I gave him repeated kisses on top of his fat head and stood back up. “I’ll see you soon, Al,” Varric said. He, too, was trying not to appear overtly emotional.

“See you later, Varric.”

That was all we had to say to each other. Stick to what has always been.

Familiar and unfamiliar faces bid farewell to me as I walked down to the stables. Each goodbye made it harder to leave. _I don’t want to go! Don’t make me go!_ I wanted to scream.

But the only one telling me to go was myself.

Hana was talking to Cole when I reached the stables. The mage wore her beautiful black hair up in a high-set bun, revealing a rather slender neck and a faded scar reaching from behind her ear and six inches up into her hairline.

When she spotted me approaching, she turned and casually waved a hand. Hana sauntered up and said, “Ay, thought I’d just drop in and say bye before you leave. Since, ya know, I’ll be gone by the time you get back.”

“That you will.” I screwed up my face and pretended to sob. “Oh, _Hana!_ I’m going to miss you too!”

Dropping my pack, I proceeded to jump onto the force of a woman and latched onto her like a baby koala. She made a noise and tried prying me off her. “Get off, you fucking weirdo.”

Smiling, I nuzzled my face deeper into her shoulder. “Don’t come at me with that accent, then. Who do you think you are, Jemaine Clement—”

Hana jabbed her hands into my sides, making me spasm with tickles and drop to the ground. She towered over me, looking almost like she did when we duked it out just a few hundred feet away. “I can kill you with your own blood. Not even with blood magic. I’ll be like Katara and blood bend you to death.”

“Kinky,” I smirked. It was good to know that _Avatar_ existed in Hana’s dimension. Standing back up and retrieving my pack, I said, “Is the commander going to be _escorting_ you down there? I told him he could, even though he just turned red in the face and denied all human emotion. Then I think he ran away and spent a really long time calibrating the trebuchets.”

Hana snorted, but she revealed the barest of smiles. “Uh, yep.” We both turned our heads to Cullen’s tower, where, lo and behold, stood the commander on the battlements. I enthusiastically waved at him, only to get an uncomfortable half-wave in return. Cullen then rubbed the back of his neck and nearly booked it back into the confines of his office.

“What a special man,” I sighed.

“Always clever, casting smirks and calling out what should be whispered,” Cole suddenly said as he, too, gazed at the tower where Rutherford hid.

“I assume that’s probably about me,” I said with a little frown.

“He knows you’re supportive,” Hana assured. “It’s the fact that you are that makes him all…”

“Skittish,” Cole finished. We both looked at the spirit-ish boy in mild surprise. He shrugged, pale blue eyes as innocent as ever. “What? I learned the new word from Sera.” In an unintentionally funny impression, Cole said, “’You make ev’ryone skittish, ya little demon.’”

“You’re not a demon, though,” I reminded, annoyed that Sera still called him that.

“I know. She does, too. She was smiling when she said that.”

“Huh. Well. That makes things better, then.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Let’s round up everybody else and get going.”

-

Emprise du Lion was not a pleasant place. Scout Harding, who met us there bundled up with more layers than probably necessary, gave a grim rundown of what was going on. Starving towns, frozen-over rivers, rifts, Red Templars, red lyrium mines, Samson, dragons, and darkspawn.

And it was very, very cold.

Bull even had himself covered up in a few layers, though far less than the rest of us. Despite all the tales of the Inquisitor and her fierce Inner Circle, none of us looked as badass dressed up in coats and scarves and gloves and chunky boots. Only Viv managed to elegant, and that’s just because she was the _Enchantress._

“Let’s get on with this so we can get out of here,” Blackwall grumbled as he tightened the drawstrings on his hood. I laughed at the sight of him.

“You look like one of those straw-filled dummies Sera shoots in the nuts,” I remarked.

That made Vivienne laugh. “Inquisitor, dear, I don’t believe you should be the one to talk. Though yes, your observations are quite accurate.”

“What are you talking about?” I scoffed.

“All those layers underneath your armor make you look as though a bee stung you and all your limbs have swollen up.”

_That_ made Solas chuckle. I side-eyed the elf. “Oh, is that funny to you, Solas? Huh? _You_ look like a cat puked an amorphous blob of tan and you thought that it’d look great wearing.”

“Not one of your best insults, I’m afraid,” Solas consoled. I glared at him, even though I couldn’t feel my face enough to know which expression I had on.

“I don’t understand,” Cole said as he walked, seemingly unphased by the cold. “Why is it bad to be warm?”

“It’s not bad,” I explained. “It’s just fun to tease everybody because we’re trying to stay calm and not think about what’s waiting for us.”

“Because it’s bad.” He said it softly, knowingly.

“Yes. Because it’s bad.”

We had gone through the village of Sahrnia and saw people huddled in homes, thin blankets and mouse-eaten scarves as their only source of warmth. Even the built fires were measly. The Inquisition had supplies delivered, but until the snow melted a little and Red Templars were eradicated, the larger caravans wouldn’t be able to get through.

“We got company, Boss,” Bull said lowly, eyes trained on the path ahead. “Don’t think you’re gonna like it, either.”

I followed his gaze and stopped on a blonde-haired man donned in ridiculous Orlesian armor. The recognition was immediate.

And suddenly I could feel the fire burning the soles of my feet and hear the screams of thousands before they died in fires.

“Alaran?” Cole tentatively asked. “Things are different, now, different and not-dangerous and—”

“Michel de Chevin,” I called, surprising the chevalier by using his own name. “Empress Celene’s former _Champion.”_

From behind me, I heard Blackwall breathe, “Uh oh.”

Michel tentatively walked forward. “Inquisitor Lavellan? I heard you were coming this way. I have been—”

He was then cut off by a fierce blow to the cheek. Michel gasped in pain and staggered to the side, holding a hand to his cut skin.

“Traitor,” I spat. “Murderer.”

“Ah, of course, Michel de Chevin,” Vivienne commented. “A disgraced man deserving of a disgraced greeting.”

“I was at that alienage Celene ordered you to _burn down,”_ I hissed, vitriolically relishing in the fact that his empress was dead. “And a Dalish elf told me what you did to her clan. What you _unleashed._ Her name was Mihris. Do you remember?” Queenkiller was suddenly in my grasp, prepared to spill blood other than that of Red Templar. “How was it, burning down the very same alienage that you were raised in? Killing relatives and friends?”

“Oh, my,” said Vivienne. “If only such scandalous information held any relevancy today.”

Glad that a boss bitch had my back, I went on. “What do you want, chevalier? Speak quickly; I never did get the satisfaction of killing as many as you ornamental dicks as I should have back in the day.”

Michel staggered upright, stunned and confused by the hostile truths being thrown at him. “I—I do remember the elf, Inquisitor. I remember it all. And there is not a day that goes by where I don’t regret what I did.”

“Why? Because you made a deal with a demon and let it slaughter an entire clan?”

“Yes.” He truly appeared sorrowful, which only made me more suspicious. It could all be a ploy. “I tracked the demon, Imshael, to Suledin Keep. But with Sahrnia under threat and the keep all but controlled by Red Templars, I decided to stay here and protect the villagers. Somebody needed to.” Michel’s face grew dark. “The mayor. She sold villagers to the templars to work as slaves in the mines. Be on the lookout for them when you attack.”

I stared at Michel for several moments with a disgusted, gritted teeth expression before turning my gaze to the looming keep in the Inquisition’s crosshairs. “So there’s a demon in there, huh? Probably working with the templars, too. And we’re gonna have to kill it.”

“I would be indebted to you if—” Michel began. I didn’t let him speak.

“Stay here with the village. Thank you for informing us of the problem.” I sheathed my sword and walked past Michel, the memory of the alienage making me an angrier, more vengeful version of myself. The others followed behind, and it wasn’t until after we killed the first batch of Red Templars and secured ground for the Inquisition did anyone say anything.

And, of course, it had to be Bull.

“Soooo Boss…care to explain what happened back there with that Orlesian?”

“I thought I explained everything perfectly _back there,”_ I involuntarily snapped.

“Yeah, okay, maybe you did, but it _was_ pretty volatile. And you should probably try not punching people so much. Work out your emotions in a healthier way. Just saying.”

“Chevin was just like all the other chevaliers.” I stopped to examine a clump of ghoul’s beard growing out of the cavernous tunnel we were traveling through and plucked it out. It’d be good to have some growing back at Skyhold’s gardens. I’d send it back with returning troops with full assurance that they’d make sure it was kept safe. “They claimed to uphold honor and loyalty and noble values, but all I remember them for were killing elves in the slums and being paid off to turn the other cheek.”

“Yeah, but he was hunting down a demon,” Blackwall said. “Making up for the mistakes he made. Isn’t that a little redemptive?”

I grunted, reluctant to see anything beyond the shining armor. “I know you guys think I’m being overdramatic about all this. But…but I don’t want to ever forgive anyone who had a part in burning down the Halamshiral slums. I was there for a long time. I had relationships with a lot of people who perished. And you all know how well I take to those who hurt the ones I care for.”

“He was Celene’s champion at the time,” Vivienne commented. “Though everyone has a will to make their own decisions, he most likely had no valid option but to do her bidding.”

“Yeah.” Sighing, I started walking again down the tunnel. There were more templars ahead we needed to deal with. “Just…give me time to think. At least until all of this is over. In the meantime—”

“Alaran?” Solas called. He was ahead of the rest of us, caught up in elven glyphs on the wall and a few old statues. “You may want to come and see this.”

We walked up the tunnel’s gentle slope and found Solas in an oddly round nook. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, the place was warm. He was standing next to an eerie, triangular chest that glowed green through its slats.

“Looks Tevinter,” said Bull. “be careful.”

Cole made an uncharacteristically scared whimper. “Bad, bad, bad,” he said, stepping further away from the unnatural pyramid.

“No,” Solas breathed, pointing a finger upward. _“That.”_

Hanging above the cavern’s icy ceiling were several human legs. Vivienne gasped and Bull swore an appropriate, “What the fuck?”

“They…they look as if they got trapped in between,” I observed with morbid curiosity. I would have doubted that they were even real legs, had it not been for the varying states of decomposition they were in.

“That’s what I believe,” Solas said. “But I’m more concerned about _that_ pair of legs.” He used his staff to prod some gray, stiff appendages. When I saw just what they were wearing on said dead legs, I took the opportunity to swear as well.

“Those,” I said slowly, “are swim trunks. _Ugly_ swim trunks.”

“From Earth?” Vivienne prompted solemnly.

“Yeah. _An_ Earth, at least.”

“What do you mean, _an_ Earth?” Blackwall warily asked.

“I mean that Hana is from a different Earth than I am, and I have reason to believe that somewhere in _this_ universe is an Earth as well.” Thanks, Gaspard, for hanging a krogan head in your trophy room. “But what does that make this?” I gestured to the box and crouched down to inspect it more closely. “A teleportation device that doesn’t function properly? Maybe…maybe we should try to take it back to Skyhold and inspect…it…”

I trailed off upon seeing a small carving inscribed beneath a note that said: _Don’t touch my pyramid!_

It was a smaller triangle, with a single eye in the middle of it.

_“Shit!_ ” I spat, reeling back as though bitten. “Shit! Fuck! This needs to get _gone.”_

“Can’t,” Cole blurted, anxiously wringing his hands. “Too bad, too bad, _too bad!”_

A part of me wanted to impulsively touch it to see where it’d take me. But I shut that shit down and stood back up. “It’s undoubtedly unstable,” Solas affirmed. His eyes were bright with the same morbid curiosity I had a few moments earlier. Right before that curiosity turned into absolute terror. “There is a…chaos to it. Immortal chaos. Trying to damage it would only result in something worse.”

“Then we seal it up,” I grimly said. “Collapse it. Make sure that nobody else will ever encounter this…Bill contraption again.”

“Then let’s seal it as quickly as possible,” said Vivienne. “Unless we’ve all forgotten that there’s a Red Templar army out there that needs to be dealt with.”

Solas and Vivienne thoroughly collapsed the space. I hoped that it would never surface again and decay with time. But it’d probably turn up like the _Jumanji_ game no matter what.

And suddenly, I decided that I didn’t need to see the end of _Gravity Falls._ I didn’t need to deal with any other-dimensional stuff, actually. Never, ever again.

Then we got back to work. The real, present threats still remained. I’d have time later to sink into the despairing paradox that there were infinite universes just beyond arm’s reach.

-

Everybody was exhausted. A week in Sahrnia was a week of fighting Red Templars, establishing bases, retaking an entire keep, fighting darkspawn and closing rifts, and freeing hostage slaves. And those were only the main things.

Night fell early in Emprise du Lion, so we spent dinner huddled around a campfire with our backs against the darkness. I felt eyes on me, eyes that didn’t exist—at least in this region.

Probably.

As I slurped on some hot stew, my mind went back to the Frozen Wastes for the thousandth time this week. Fear bubbled up in intrusive waves, though I pretended I couldn’t feel it.

“Cold, cold and dark and we peer into the darkness. The darkness peers back,” Cole softly spoke. I snapped my head his way, eyes refocusing on the boy.

“Please, don’t,” I said. Cole tilted his head in confusion.

“You don’t say anything, but the cold dark scares you. It scared you in Haven, it scared you all night this week. What it is? I don’t want you to be scared anymore.”

Everybody was listening, now. Solas knew I was frightened from the way I clung to him during the night, but he respected my choice to not tell the reason. He placed a hand on my back to try and comfort me. It didn’t do anything.

“Cole, please. Not tonight. I don’t want to awaken the memory even more.”

“What did happen?” Blackwall inquired. “Maybe it’ll help.”

“I didn’t know you were scared of conditions such as these,” said Vivienne. “It’s just the winter, my dear. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not the winter,” I replied. “It’s what’s _in_ the darkness.”

“’Keep the fire going,’ you say. Shok fuels it, stokes it, and you see the fear in her as well. The thing in the dark does not like warmth, that’s what the barbarian said,” Cole whispered. He didn’t do too much of this stuff, anymore, but he had already gone down the rabbit hole and couldn’t stop himself. “The bandits didn’t know, they didn’t know and in the snow were skins and no bones.” Cole pulled his knees closer to his chest, starting to scare himself. “It cracks, it creaks and three eyes watch you—”

I downed the rest of my stew’s broth and got up. “Not doing this tonight,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Not tonight.”

“Then when?” Bull asked. “Sounds like this stuff really messed you up.”

“When we’re back in Skyhold and not out in the fucking open,” I said before ducking into the confines of my tent and burrowing under blankets. I squeezed my eyes shut to try and block everything out, but all I saw was more darkness.

And in the darkness were three eyes.

-

Nightmares were left behind with Emprise du Lion. The region was rapidly stabilizing with the Inquisition’s presence, and with the bridge being rebuilt more trade flow could start again. There _were_ dragons, but, as usual, I let them be. They probably didn’t want to share the Frostbacks with the few already occupied there, anyway.

Bull was the only one not happy about the inaction.

And then we were off to the Exalted Plains. It, too, was much better from the last time we campaigned. Still, those great wolf statues that peered across the landscape reminded me of Wisdom. The smell of dark soil and the touch of a cold breeze reminded me of Wisdom. Everything reminded me of her.

I found Solas’ hand and gave it a squeeze. Everything was so calm, so familiar. As if Wisdom’s death somehow cleansed it of evil.

“It feels like her, now,” Solas spoke quietly. “She’ll always be here.”

Despite all the time that had passed, tears sprung to my eyes. I blinked them away and let out a breath. The Fade was quieter without Wis. There was just… _less._

We talked about her a lot. We didn’t talk about what happened after she died, though. It’d always be there in the back of our minds, and Solas’ hands never liked lingering over the scar from the axe wound that should have killed me. Neither did Dorian talk about what happened between him and Wisdom. The temporary possession and the choice he made to _be_ possessed.

Maybe it’d eventually be discussed, in time. But for now…for now Solas and I stayed quiet and listened to the echoes of Wisdom’s laughter that danced across pillars of stone and the river that ran through the countryside.

We killed a snowy wyvern, though, as well as a bunch of other wyverns that got in the way of killing the snowy one. Vivienne, as it turned out, stayed with us longer for the campaign. _She_ was the one who wanted the snowy wyvern for its heart. There was no explanation and no excuse for the diversion. And when I volunteered to retrieve the heart from the snowy wyvern’s chest cavity, she took it, dried off the excess blood and wrapped it up in a thick cloth. Vivienne didn’t once complain as we waded through thigh-high swamp water where things slithered underneath the surface. Not even when her fancy outfit got destroyed by muck and slime and wyvern blood.

And besides, if she did complain it was drowned out by Dorian’s loud whinging.

I didn’t dare talk to the enchantress about things until we were back at camp and settled in for the night. When I stepped out of my own tent and walked to Vivienne’s, however, I found that it had been taken down and packed into a nearby wagon. Vivienne was overseeing the packing when she saw me approach. My arms were spread out to the sides in confusion and I opened my mouth to barrage her with all sorts of questions.

She stopped me with one of her short, “My dear. I believe I owe you an explanation.”

“Uh, yeah you do. What the crap, Viv? Why are you leaving? It’s almost nightfall already!”

She gestured that we walk a little ways to get out of earshot. Putting a soft hand on my shoulder, Vivienne said, “This is spectacularly short notice, I know. But I must not delay in what I’m tasked with. Forgive me, Inquisitor, but if I wait I fear the worst will happen.”

“And just what is that, exactly? You can talk to me. I know you’re a private woman, but I’m your friend.” We stopped on the outskirts of the camp, where the light was dimmer and the air colder. Furrowing my brows, I earnestly said, “I’m not mad, really. I’m worried. I don’t want you to think that whatever you’re going through, you have to do it alone.”

Vivienne pursed her lips and turned her head toward the darkness. With my nocturnal eyesight, though, I could still see the way her eyes glistened beneath the sliver of moonlight. She clasped her hands in front of her and didn’t answer for several moments. The worst part was that whatever may be wrong, I wouldn’t be able to help Vivienne because of the campaign. We’d be gone for another month, at least. By the time I got back things might already be over with.

“Yes, dear, I’m aware,” Vivienne finally spoke. She continued to gaze out onto the dark landscape. “And I thank you for your concern. And your friendship. You truly are more than any of us could have asked for.” Vivienne cleared her throat and regained the iron composure that made her so feared. “I believe that my work may be completed by the time you return. It would mean very much to me if you were to join me in my endeavor.”

“Of course.” This time it was me who put a hand on her shoulder. “Why all the secrets, though? I’d think that you’d trust me with any information.”

“I do.” Vivienne uncharacteristically sighed. “But I want to hope before all else. Hope before I have to accept the despair.”

I pulled her in for an embrace. She was reluctant to accept it, but eventually succumbed and reciprocated the gesture. “I understand,” I whispered. “Be safe, please. And I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

I watched Vivienne leave with soldiers who were on their way to the camp nearest to the border. She’d be safe. Or, rather, _they’d_ be safe with Vivienne at their side.

But I just hoped that everything was okay.

-

The Emerald Graves was good. Winter made it even quieter, with trees standing bold against the cold and light layers of snow. The Freemen of the Dales were all but gone, and with help from the Inquisition, Fairbanks had trade and homes being built. He made them stay away from the tall trees. “The Dalish trees,” to be more specific. Fairbanks knew the importance of them, and maintained a reverence not found in many Orlesian men.

The last time we were here I accidentally rode a dragon and drank its blood. And the last time we were here I saw the world from a viewpoint very few others had experienced.

A world shaped by Titans.

 “How big were they?” I asked Solas as I lay in our warm tent. He was sitting up going over some archaic texts that hurt my blind-ass eyes to look at. Sometimes I got the best responses out of him when he was distracted, because with his mind on some other task he didn’t have the brainpower to simultaneously give vague and riddle-like answers.

I loved him, I really did. But Solas could be a pretentious butthead. I could too, though, so we balanced each other out with our pretentious butthead behavior.

“Bigger than you could imagine,” Solas replied as he wrote something down on a piece of parchment. Probably some translation that scholars would fawn over for the next fifty years. Solas was brilliant like that. I found myself smiling at him despite the solemn response he gave. “It took weeks to bring one down, and even then it could be unsuccessful. They didn’t create the world, but the world is the way it is today because of them.”

“Reports of earthquakes in the Deep Roads are becoming more frequent.” I rolled over and stared up at the tent. “We’ll have to go investigate, soon. You think it’s a Titan awakening?”

“Most likely. The Breach and accompanying rifts have brought back pieces of a world without the Veil. It’s plausible that ancient things are beginning to stir.”

“Oh? Well, that’s great. I’m going to love creeping around the body of an enormous being that literally spans across Thedas—” I stopped and realized what I just said. Hastily turning over to Solas, I asked, “Wait, if the Evanuris killed Titans, then how are they awakening? Do they ever truly die?”

He finally lifted his head up from his work, thinking about the questions just posed. “I…am uncertain. It makes sense that they would not die. They are pillars of stone, and the earth gives them life as much as they give it. As long as lyrium flows within them, they may only slumber instead of perish.”

Solas looked back down at his work, hand moving more precisely across the parchment. It was good he didn’t look at me, else he would have known that I sensed the lie. It was mixed with the truth, but he was stupid to think that I couldn’t tell when he was being untruthful. Even if it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t part of the whole.

_What is he hiding from you? What is he afraid to say?_

_Or what is he trying to keep you from knowing?_

I yawned and muttered something casual about getting claustrophobic inside of a Titan, then rolled away from Solas and the candlelight. He didn’t see me squeeze my eyes shut in hurt and anger.

The fear that Solas was planning something in secret reared in the back of my mind. Too keep information from me, to keep me in the dark _just a little bit,_ wasn’t a good sign. Solas acted as if he wanted to stay with me and pursue our dreams of a better world together. And I think he truly believed it at times. But what about the other times? When he has something else entirely in mind?

_My love. I don’t want to be forced kill you._

_And I don’t want my heart broken by you._

-

“It’s not such a bad place,” I loudly protested. “You guys are just being weenies.”

A loose patch of sand caught my foot and I promptly fell over, eating a mouthful of the Hissing Wastes. Dorian laughed, but it was bitter.

“What was that again, Alaran darling? I couldn’t hear you because my _ears_ are plugged with _sand.”_

Solas and Cole helped me back up, and I used the skin of warm water at my side to wash out the grit from my mouth. I stood by what I said, though. Nobody liked the Hissing Wastes because of the sand, and the demons, and the weird predators, and the Red Templars, and the Venatori, and the spiders, and the fact that we couldn’t have mounts because it’d be easier to spot us. Pretty stupid reasons, right?

“If I hear one more person complain, I’m sending you back to camp,” I threatened.

Dorian groaned in relief. “Oh, yes, _please!_ Why did you drag me along for this? I hate it here!”

“It’s not so bad, amatus,” Bull tried to console. “At least the moon is pretty.”

_“Thank you,_ Bull,” I said. “It is very pretty here, isn’t it? And we don’t have to be dying in the daytime because of the light it provides.”

“Just promise me one thing, Inquisitor,” Blackwall sighed, wearily trudging through the sand. “We won’t go to another one of those dwarven ruins. I don’t like fighting more demons than we have to.”

“Okay, I’m _sorry_ that I accidentally got the tablets in the wrong order, but the wording was weird! We have to get to all of them before the Venatori do, though, so you’re out of luck there.”

“As interesting as those ruins are, Boss,” Bull put in, “we can have troops in the area do it for us. The bulk of the Venatori have been defeated, so they won’t be in as much danger as before.”

“Um, excuse me? We’re going to finish off the rest of the Venatori right now. _Then_ we’ll see what happens. But I’m really digging this puzzle stuff. I haven’t been challenged in a while.”

“This _puzzle_ encompasses the entire Hissing Wastes!” Dorian, well, hissed.

“Then you can go back to camp when we’re finished killing the bad guys and I’ll do it without you,” I snapped, but I was smiling because of Dorian’s exaggerated woes. “It’s not our fault you wear so many belts and buckles that all the sand could get into.”

Bull chuckled and squeezed Dorian’s shoulder while he glowered. “Told you that there’s nothing wrong going shirtless like me.”

“I liked the Mabari shopkeeper,” Cole said out-of-the-blue. “He was nice. And he gave good deals if you fed him a treat.”

“He wasn’t actually the shopkeeper, Cole,” Blackwall explained. “The owner was just out, making the whole thing very…odd.”

“That’s what he wants you to think,” Cole simply muttered, leaving all of us more confused than ever.

We neared the final Venatori den, after hiking up an unfair amount of terrain and coming across a random rift. I let everyone take a break to gather their energy and make sure we were properly stocked. I didn’t say it out loud, but my feet were killing me and closing the rift made pain shoot up and down my arm. I was ready to just go to sleep.

Sleep next to Solas, pretending that everything was alright.

When we got back up and stealthily made our way to the den’s entrance, I stopped and saw that sentry corpses were already strewn across the sand. We all looked to Cole, wondering if he had gone ahead when none of us were working and did some assassin work.

But the boy only shook his head and peered through the open entrance. “Somebody is already here. Killing, gutting Tevinter bastards who thought they could sneak slaves through the desert.”

I made a face and drew my brows down. That sounded like somebody…

Nah. Couldn’t be.

“Then let’s go greet whoever did our job for us,” I shrugged, and, still keeping Queenkiller in hand, forged the way ahead through the maze of slats the Venatori put up to confuse intruders.

Signs of a fight were everywhere, as were Venatori bodies and looks of magical blasts. The closer we drew to the center of the den, the clearer we heard sounds of fighting and distant voices.

Familiar voices.

I broke into a run, keeping my greatsword at the angle I was taught to by an instructor long ago. Magic permeated the air, as well as an odd aura that couldn’t be placed.

“Alaran, wait!” Solas quietly exclaimed, hightailing it after me. But I wasn’t going to stop now. Not when there was so much more waiting just on the other side of the flat.

I skidded around the corner, Queenkiller blazing with fire, only to see a dozen dead Venatori leaking blood into the sand. In the center of them all stood two figures. One had white hair and glowed brilliantly with lyrium tattoos. The other wielded a staff and had an ear pierced with a small gold hoop.

Two pairs of eyes locked on me. I abruptly stopped, drove Queenkiller deep into the ground, and removed my helmet. The companions piled in behind me, coming to a halt as they stared at the legends in front of them.

Smirking, I called to a stunned Fenris and Anders, “Well, well, isn’t it the two biggest assholes in Thedas!”

From a nook to the east, another figure emerged, carrying a stave and gray hair slicked back to reveal pointy ears.

 I jovially waved at him. “Oh, look, it’s Orsino! Make that the three biggest assholes!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That one pyramid in Emprise du Lion had to be something more, am I right? So of course my crack-fic butt was going to make something of it. Hope at least a couple readers have seen Gravity Falls.
> 
> Also, Fenris and Anders are back. And Orsino.
> 
> Also, I hope all y'all are staying lovely.


End file.
